


Said the Spider to the Fly

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Empires, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bandom Big Band 2013, Community: bandombigbang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean Van Vleet is in charge of his own small record company, and he's looking for new acts to sign. William Beckett is on his radar. He has no idea what he's getting into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Said the Spider to the Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I played with people's ages for the purpose of this fic, given that Max is younger than William, and William's the same age as Sean.
> 
> Thanks to inlovewithnight for the beta, and to psuedo_catalyst for the initial idea (it was supposed to be a quick ficlet. ahahahaha). 
> 
> Extra special thanks to my mixer abtagrl for an amazing mix that is just perfect as an outline to the story. You can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/948024)

Sean watches the kid closely. He's got a lot of confidence, but Sean wants to make sure he's got everything else he's going to need if things go the way Sean hopes. His voice is solid and he's got good audience contact, which is putting the cart before the horse for Sean, but knowing this kind of thing is why Sean's even marginally successful.

William finishes up his set and Sean waits until he breaks down his minimal equipment before walking up to the stage. “Great set.”

The kid smiles, and it's innocent and cocky all at once. Someone's going to want to punch him if he's not careful. “Thanks.”

“Not that you don't have room to improve, but you've got the basics down.”

“Excuse me?” His eyebrow goes up and Sean thinks if he could, he'd blow up like a puffer fish. “Who are you?”

“Sean Van Vleet.” He reaches out to shake his hand, business card held between two fingers. “Empires Records.”

“Empire Records? Seriously? Are you open until midnight?”

“Yeah, I haven't gotten that before. But it's Empires. Plural. And, I'm going to go out on a limb here, but if this is how you're going to treat record executives, you're not going to get far as a musician.”

William closes his mouth tightly, and Sean watches him slowly calm down, almost deflating. “Sorry.”

“Let's have coffee.” He looks around the coffee shop they're currently in and nods toward the door. “Elsewhere.”

“I need to stow my stuff. I know one of the guys that works here. Let me do that and I'll be right back.” He hauls his guitar in one hand and his mini-amp in the other back to the counter. Sean recognizes Nick from the scene and nods in his direction. Nick knows what Sean means, and his eyes go wide when he looks over at William. He grabs the stuff from his hands and kicks William in the ass and in Sean's direction. William flips him off but heads over to Sean looking much friendlier than he had. “Sorry.”

“It's okay. Come on. No offense to your friend, but the coffee here sucks.”

“No, you're right. It does.” Sean can tell he alters his stride to match Sean's, since the kid has legs about four miles long. Sean's not used to actually feeling short. Especially to a sixteen-year-old. “So, you're an A&R guy or something?”

“Something.” They hit his favorite coffee shop and Sean leads him to the counter. “Whatever you want.”

He orders some weird tea concoction and, after a quick look at Sean that earns him a nod, a slice of chocolate cake that makes Sean's teeth hurt just looking at it. Sean gives them his normal order and pays, tipping the barista as well. Good business relations are important. He waits for the order, watching William. He's trying on different faces, trying to figure out how to react to whatever Sean's going to tell him. It's kind of endearing.

He sets William's cake in front of him along with his tea. “Dig in.” He opens his bag and pulls out his raspberry white chocolate scone, breaking off a piece and taking a bite. William waits until Sean's chewing before he uses the fork to break off some of the chocolate cake. Once the first few bites are out of the way and William looks a little less like one of the orphans in Oliver, Sean takes a sip of coffee and clears his throat. “So.”

William blinks at him and straightens up in his seat. “So.”

“So, I'm not an A&R guy. Well, not just that. I'm also the owner and president and one of two actual employees. But I've got a studio and an amazing producer. I want you to come check out our set up and see how you feel. If you like it, I want Remember Maine on my label.”

“What if I don't like it?”

“I'm still going to make you an offer.”

“So it doesn't really matter if I like it?”

Sean shrugs. “I imagine if you don't like it, you'll turn it down.”

“Does this approach get you a lot of clients?”

He shrugs again. “You'd be surprised how refreshing honesty is in this business. What do you say?”

“There are a lot of bands in Chicago. Why me?”

“My label means a lot to me. I like to pick people I think are talented, have potential, and fit the image I'm trying to cultivate. I think you'd be a good fit. So, what do you say?”

William chews his lower lip and Sean has to hide a smile at the image of gears turning in his head. “I'm just going to look.”

“Absolutely. Nothing in writing until you say you want to give us a try.” Sean smiles. “So, what do you say?”

“Where and when?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“What your schedule's like.”

**

Sean's sure to have music playing when William gets there, something close to William's aesthetic but not too close. No sense in making him feel like he's got competition from the get-go. It's also a nice way to show off Max's abilities. Sean's good at pulling out all the stops.  
His office has a view of the front of the building, so he sees William get out of the passenger side of a car, leaning in to talk to someone. He digs a bike out of the trunk and props it up against the metal railing, carefully chaining it up. Sean smothers a laugh and takes a drink of his fourth cup of coffee. Despite appearances, Sean's pretty sure that William is smart and won't take well to anyone appearing to be amused about anything but his sense of humor. Definitely not his mode of transportation.

He buzzes the control room. “He's here, Max.”

“I'll put on my impressive pants.”

“Is that the ones with holes or without?”

“Be nice, Van Boss, or I'll stage a walk out.”

“As if you'd leave your equipment behind.” Sean clicks off the intercom and stands up. He doesn't actually look anything like a record executive – Max tells him he looks like a lumberjack or a hobo most of the time – but he imagines the closest William might have come to one is Pete Wentz, and Sean looks a hell of a lot more respectable than him.

Of course, Sean doesn't have a secretary, not that Pete does, but Pete has scene minions, which might be the same thing. Either way, Sean goes out into the miniscule waiting room just as William walks in the door.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” William smiles, and it's nervous, which makes Sean happy. That means he's actually thinking about what Sean's offered. “So, you saw what I've got. Show me yours.”

Sean laughs. Fuck. He _likes_ this kid. “This way, said the spider to the fly.”

William quirks an eyebrow. “My fly's off limits.”

Sean raises an eyebrow and hides his smile as he opens the door to the control room. “So, this is our studio, and this is Max Steger. Producer extraordinaire. Max, this is William Beckett.”

“I don't shake hands,” Max informs him without looking back. “I create with my hands.”

“Fair enough.” William suppresses a grin. “Nice set up.”

“Nice?” Max asks, his voice dangerously high. “This is better than nice. This is not Garage Band in your parents' basement. This is an actual functioning studio. Top of the line equipment-”

“Easy, Max. Let's not scare off potential talent, okay?”

“Nice,” Max growls under his breath. “Bullshit, it's nice.”

Sean nods toward the door. “Come on. I'll show you the actual studio. It's _nice_.”

“Fuck you, Van Dickhead,” Max calls after them.

“As you can see, we have a wonderfully harmonious working relationship.” Sean smiles and leads William to the studio door. “I tell him what to do, he ignores and insults me.”

“Sounds productive.”

“You'd be surprised.” He opens the door and lets William go in first. “It's nothing much to look at, but everything's top of the line. Max won't work with anything less.”

“That's right,” Max's voice comes through the speaker. “Get behind the mic. I want to hear you sing.”

“Is he always this bossy?” William asks, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Because if he is, he'd better be good.”

“I'm _amazing_ ,” Max informs him. “Let's see if you're anything close to it.”

“Seriously, he's charming.” William gestures to the guitar stand. “May I?”

“It's not Max's, so you're free to touch.”

“Thanks.” He sits on the stool behind the mic and tunes the guitar, humming softly to himself. Sean leans against the wall and gives Max a look that hopefully will make him behave. Sean knows it won't but he keeps trying. William closes his eyes for a moment and then leans in a little, his voice even and smooth. It's a song Sean hasn't heard, and it makes shivers run down his spine. He doesn't dare look at Max because Max is a bitch when he gets proven wrong.

William finishes and the mic crackles. “You need to work on your range, but you're not half-bad.”

“Wow. Really. Your praise is going to go to my head.” William sets the guitar back on the stand and looks at Sean. “You didn't mention abuse came with the opportunity you're offering.”

“Well, you know, I wanted extra incentives to lure you with once I got you here. Can't put it all out on the table up front.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocking up onto his toes and then back down to his heels. “You want to go in my office and talk?”

William glances at Max and then back at Sean, shrugging. “Is he going to try to cheat me, Max?”

“Fuck you, kid.”

Sean shakes his head. “You can ignore him.”

“No. That's the answer I needed to hear. If the guy who gives you shit recommends you, or at least doesn't disparage you, you can't be all bad. Let's go to your office.”

**

“So.” William looks around the office, deliberately avoiding the contract he just signed on the table between them. “What now?”

“You've got enough songs for an album. We'll set up time in the studio with Max and get you recorded. He can play the other instruments if you need, or if you just want to do acoustic, that's cool too. Like I said, I like your sound.”

“Coffee shops have shitty acoustics.”

“And yet I like your sound anyway.” Sean smiles, leaning back a little in his chair. “You could at least wait until you're out of my office before you start having second thoughts.”

“I'm not. I mean, not really. It's just sort of...what I've dreamed of. I never expected it to happen.”

“That's usually when it does.” Sean pushes the contract in front of William. “That one's yours. Hang onto it, so when you become famous you can pretend that you never signed it and I don't own a piece of your soul.” He puts his hands on the table and stands up. “Let's go look at Max's schedule and see if we can get you on the books.”

“Is it hard to get on the books?”

“Well, that sort of depends on if Max is hiding the book or not. Sometimes our work relationship is a bit fraught with him being a diva.”

William laughs. “Sometimes?”

“Right. Well. A lot of the time.” Sean leans his chair backwards and hits the intercom on his desk. “Max, your presence is requested in my office.”

“Requested, so I can blow you off, right?”

“Max.” Sean laced his name with impatience. He’s not actually mad, but there’s a point when being a smart ass crosses over into being a dick, and Max is getting close to the line. Sean actually is running a business. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way.” 

There’s a sharp crackle as Max snaps off the intercom and Sean lets his chair drop back down to the floor. “We’ll get time set up, then we can talk about doing some touring. Local stuff probably. You’re still in school, right?”

“Yeah. But emancipated. Hence me signing this thing. School’s...not a priority.”

“Let’s get you through high school so no one can claim I ruined your shot at making something of yourself in life.” He smirks and waits for William’s smile. “We can do weekends and vacations for a while, then when you’re done, we’ll hook up with some other bands and get you out on a real tour. Get your name out there.”

“You know some guy with an acoustic guitar isn’t going to set the world on fire.”

“First of all, your attitude sucks. Second of all, Bob Dylan.” He points at William. “Third of all, don’t argue with me. Just because I let Max get away with it, doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Especially since if he doesn’t let me get away with it, I leave and I take all my equipment with me.” Max comes into the room and grabs a chair, turning it backwards and sitting down on it, draping his arms over the back and dropping his chin on them. His hair is epic, hanging around his face and shoulders. “How many songs to you have?”

“Forty-seven.”

Max’s eyebrows go up and Sean presses his lips together to hide another smile. He’s probably going to kill one of the two of them before this whole thing ends, but for now he’s amused by the prospect of them working together. It should be an amazing clash of wills that hopefully won’t take him down in the crossfire. “How many do you think are worthy of recording?”

William shrugs and looks at him as if he’s not quite sure what Max is asking. “Forty-seven.”

Sean stands up. “Anyone thirsty? I’m going to run down the block and get something to drink. You two play nice.” He heads to the door knowing that Max will be less of a smart ass if he’s not there. He sends a quick text to Tom, one of the session musicians they use a lot, asking about his availability. 

When he comes back twenty minutes later, Max and William are both in the production booth. Sean’s not sure if he should be relieved or worried that they actually seem to be getting along.

“I see Max leaned how to make nice.” He sinks down onto the battered couch at the back of the room. Max protested against it, but Sean actually pulled rank and so it sits there, mostly unused except when someone forgets to go home and falls asleep there rather than waste time commuting. “Sharing isn’t always his strong suit.”

“Beckett has ideas.” Max points something out to William and starts using words that Sean has never pretended to understand. His job isn’t to understand. It’s to find talent and promote it, to write tortured songs that he has yet to show to Max. It’s a thing. It’s always going to be a thing, and Sean’s reconciled himself to it. 

“When are you starting?”

“He’s bringing his songs in tomorrow and we’ll cull through them to find out which ones we want to use.” 

Sean’s eyebrows go up. Max must be as impressed with William as Sean is because he’d normally say straight out that Beckett doesn’t actually _have_ 47 songs that are album-worthy instead of implying he might actually have more than an album’s worth. “That’s great.”

“Well, you actually gave me talent to work with this time,” Max flips Sean off without looking, and Sean watches William’s grin spread across his face. Shit. This is going to be epic. 

“I’ll leave you two boys to your sandbox then. See you tomorrow, William.”

**

He doesn’t actually see William the next day. Max meets him at the door and disappears with him into the studio. Sean wants to watch, but he’s got lyrics eating him alive from the inside and four other bands he’s working with. There’s also the note from Max on his desk threatening some of Sean’s favorite parts of his anatomy if he even comes close. Sean is a brave man, but he also knows Max doesn’t make idle threats. 

He’s almost ready to leave and snaps on the intercom to say something to Max. He stops before he can start, the sound of William’s voice filling his office. It’s a song he hadn’t played in any of his sets at the coffee shop, and it’s sharp and painful. Sean listens for a while and then snaps off the intercom and leaves the office. He drives around for a while, a stupid itch that keeps building beneath his skin, and then heads back to the studio. William’s bike is still out in front, so he snaps off the ignition and heads inside. He literally runs into William as he turns the corner toward Max’s inner sanctum. 

“Oh. Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” William takes Sean’s hand and lets him pull him back to his feet. He rubs his ass and Sean has to concentrate not to look. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I am. I wasn’t, but now I am. Where’s Max?”

“He got a call from someone, so he told me we were done for the night. What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Ten? Shit.” William’s nose scrunches. “I should eat.”

“You should. You know, I’m starving. Let’s go get something, and I’ll give you a ride home. We can stow your bike in the back of my car.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to pay for dinner with my signing bonus.”

“Ha.” Sean laughs and shakes his head. “You forget, I know exactly how much your signing bonus was. Or wasn’t.”

“Max told me I could have a bag of jellybeans from the bowl on my way out yesterday. I could split them with you. Show you what a big spender I am.”

“Showing off for me, huh? Living the high life already.” Sean says, his voice caught somewhere between teasing and flirting, and there’s a voice in his head telling him to shut up before he digs himself a hole he can’t get out of. “We’re going to see you on ‘Behind the Music’ someday, aren’t we?”

“Yep. My jellybean-fueled lifestyle.” William picks up his bike and carries it on his shoulder. “I’ll probably be snorting them by the time the album comes out. Stalking the streets in my lowest moments, selling sex for jellybeans.”

It’s a distracting image and Sean drops his keys when he tries to open the door to the car. “Don’t go down the jellybean road, man. It only ends in tears. Besides, you heard Max. Only the first taste is free.”

William laughs and angles his bike into the back of the car. Luckily Sean’s got his grandfather’s old car, which is a behemoth of a machine, possibly built out of solid steel or admantium or something. It might actually be a tank with a paint job faded to a sad yellow. William stows the bike and then climbs in the passenger seat. Sean gets in as well, rubbing his hand over his beard and exhaling before starting the car.

“What are you in the mood for?”

William shrugs. “We can just hit a McDonald’s or something if you want. I’m a cheap date.”

“Don’t put that on your concert rider.” Sean glances over and has to laugh. “Let me guess, it’s starting to hit you?”

“Concert rider.” William shakes his head. “I’m lucky if Nick gives me a free tea with lemon when I sing at the coffee shop.”

“Hopefully that’s going to change soon. Then you can make Scimeca do your bidding.”

“Is that what you do with friends? Make them your minions?”

“Yes.” Sean says it with such finality that William laughs, and Sean can’t help joining in. “Seriously though, we’re not celebrating this at McDonald’s, so what do you want to eat? Chinese? Pizza? Sushi? Diner food? Lutefisk? Roast beast?”

“How about the diner on 53rd?” 

“Their milkshakes suck. I know a place. Trust me.”

“I seem to be doing that a lot.” 

Sean smiles at him and hits the turn signal. “That just shows you’re a very smart guy.”

When they get there, Sean snags the table toward the back and sits facing the door. It’s his usual spot and he likes being able to see the other people huddled at tables, likes to make up their stories in his head. William slides in across from him and bounces on the bench a little bit. “Solid. Comfy. Good spring tension. So far an exceptional choice.”

“The Van Vleets take their diners very seriously.”

“As do the Becketts. Mentioning the other one was actually a test of your character.” William turns up his nose and rolls his eyes and Sean almost chokes on his sip of water. This kid is likely to be Sean’s death in more ways than one, especially when he smiles. He doesn’t sound or act his age, so Sean keeps forgetting that he’s an emancipated minor and a whole hell of a lot of trouble as anything other than a recording artist. “So what, in your esteemed and vaunted opinion, is the finest dish at this establishment.” 

“Is that an English accent there? That is the _worst_ English accent.”

“Fuck you, I do an awesome English accent.” William swings his foot and kicks Sean’s shin lightly. “Just because I don’t sound like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins...”

“Oh my _god_. You’re busting out Mary Poppins?”

“I have a younger sister!”

“No, no. Dude.” Sean shakes his head, trying not to laugh so that he can actually manage words. “Mary Poppins is my favorite. Dick Van Dyke is a fucking _genius_. You disparage him again, and I’m afraid we’re going to have to tear up your contract and cite irreconcilable differences.”

“Is that so? Is that legal?”

“Dick Van Dyke supersedes the US justice system. Make no mistake about that. Fuck, man. Have you ever watched it stoned?”

“No.” 

“Okay. So we need to rectify that.” He glances up in surprise as the waitress comes up to their table. “Order whatever you want.”

Sean isn’t sure William can hold the amount of food he orders, but given that Sean’s order isn’t that much different, he can’t really judge. The milkshakes come fast and the food follows close on their heels, so they don’t talk much while they’re eating. Sean realizes he hasn’t eaten all day as soon as he smells the grease and salt in front of him, and he imagines the same is true for William. Packs of wolves would probably be neater and less ravenous.

By the time the carnage is done, there’s half of a burnt fry on Sean’s plate and a straggling piece of lettuce and a smear of ketchup on William’s. William leans back and groans. “I’m going to die.”

“You can’t die. You owe me an album.” Sean slurps down the last bit of milkshake in his glass. 

“I don’t know that my body gives a shit about the album.”

“Don’t need your body. Just your voice. And I guess your lungs and abdomen and stuff.” Sean shrugs. “Okay. Maybe your body.” He sighs and lets his head fall back against the bench. “Of course, I might die too, and then I won’t care.”

“Max will probably be pissed.”

“Nah.” Sean rubs his stomach and exhales. “Max will live in his studio, calling his parents and sister to feed him meals through the mail slot. His hair will continue to grow until it is down past his ankles, like some sort of curly Rapunzel. Eventually they’ll crack open the studio like a tomb and he will be mummified by Diet Coke and Pixi Stix.”

“I didn’t know those were mummifying agents.”

“Have you read the amount of preservatives in those things?” William opens his mouth, and Sean’s pretty sure he’s going to get a lecture on how mummification really works, because Beckett seems like the kind of person who would actually know. He snaps it shut, and Sean’s not sure if it’s because of his smirk or the fact that talking about it on a full stomach would probably lead to pretty disgusting results. “So, I should probably get you home, huh?”

“Yeah. Early start tomorrow. Max is kind of a dictator.”

“He’s fairly benevolent though. Not likely to demand you be put before a firing squad on the first infraction.”

“You’re less than comforting.” William says dryly. 

“I try.” Sean gets out his wallet and pays for the meal and the tip. William opens his mouth again and Sean just shakes his head. “When you make it you can pay. For now, let’s consider it an additional investment.”

“This time.”

“Fair enough.” He stands up and the warmth of good food and good company hits him solidly and he yawns. “Definitely time to go home.”

“I can ride home from here. I’m probably out of your way.” 

“I’m driving you home. Unless you want to crash on my couch.” He yawns again. “Should have had coffee instead of the milkshake.”

William yawns in return, glaring at Sean the entire time like it’s his fault. “You’re working tomorrow?”

“I work every day.”

“As early as Max is making me work?”

Sean starts for the door, still yawning. “Earlier.”

William glances at his watch and Sean can see him weighing the pros and cons in his head. “Yeah. Okay. If you’re serious about it.”

“I never joke about my couch. It is like my soulmate. It is the keeper of naps. Don’t laugh, man. Nothing is better than a good couch. Except a good bed. But that’s just because it’s got more room for non-nap stuff.” He waggles his eyebrows and William rolls his eyes, the effect ruined when he yawns again. “Okay, c’mon. I hear the couch calling your name.”

**

Sean can’t fucking sleep. 

He has to get up in – he glances at the clock – three and a half hours, and he’s been staring at the ceiling for at least two. The rest of the night looks just as bleak. Normally he’d write or play his guitar, but he knows William is sound asleep in the other room and he’s not going to wake him up. Even with the door shut, Sean knows he has a tendency to forget himself and gets loud when he’s singing. 

He turns on his side and then back to the other side. The covers are twisted around his legs and he kicks them off to the end of the bed. He flips to his back and grabs the pillow from behind his head and holds it to his face, screaming silently into it. He throws it down to the end of the bed and slams his head against the mattress. 

Fuck.

He closes his eyes tight and listens to the sound of William breathing evenly in the other room and gives up, canting his hips off the bed and shoving his boxers toward his ankles. He wraps his hand around his dick and strokes it to the steady rise and fall in the other room. He closes his eyes, because he’s going to hell, and imagines William naked above him, sinking down onto his dick. He slams his head into the mattress again and fucks up into his hand, ass clenching with each thrust. 

Sean’s brain kindly supplies other images – William sucking his dick, William sprawled out and sweaty on Sean’s mattress, Sean sucking William’s dick and fingering him. He’d be tight and hot and Sean feels a shudder run through him and tightens the hand he has wrapped around the base, holding his orgasm at bay. Fuck, William’s a kid, not even as old as Max, and the thought makes his erection flag for a moment, until he thinks about teaching William, being the first to suck him, finger him, fuck him. 

He tastes blood as he bites his lip to keep silent, his stomach and palm slick with come. He shakes through the aftershocks, curled inward, stroking himself until it’s too much and he has to stop.

Slumping back onto the bed, Sean exhales shakily and stares at the ceiling. His body is still keyed up and his mind seems to have doubled its racing speed. 

Fuck.

**

“You look like shit.”

Sean takes the bag from the lady in the drive-thru window and tosses it on William’s lap then takes his coffee from her, lifting off the lid and inhaling a too-hot sip. He hisses and sets it in the cup holder, sucking on his tongue. “Gimme.”

William’s eyebrows go up and he digs in the bag, handing over one of the breakfast sandwiches to Sean. Sean unwraps it with his teeth, driving with one hand. He bites into it like it’s personally offended him and chews it quickly, swallowing to expedite the delivery of grease and salt into his system. He wolfs the rest of it down in short order and holds his hand out for the second one.

“You wake up well. Really.”

“Didn’t sleep.”

“Why not?” Sean bites into the second sandwich and reaches for his coffee with his other hand, using his knees to steer. William makes a noise and reaches over to grab the wheel, glaring at Sean. “What are you doing?”

“It was a straightaway. We were in no danger.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m too young to die.”

“You’re too young for a lot of things.” He curses himself under his breath as William jerks back, releasing the wheel and turning away from Sean. “Sorry. I’m being a dick. Like I said. No sleep.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. I get it.” 

It’s obviously not fine, and Sean blows out a breath. He lets it drop, because he doesn’t want to make it worse, and the way he’s feeling right now, that’s the most likely thing to happen. The rest of the drive is silent and feels twice as long as it actually is. As soon as Sean parks, William gets out of the car and grabs his bike from the back seat, chaining it to the railing before walking into the building. Sean watches him and drinks his coffee, unsure how it went to volcano-hot to ice cold in such a short time. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, pressing hard enough that he sees stars behind his eyelids. 

He finally blows out a breath and gets out of the car, dumping what’s left of his coffee on the ground. Some of it splashes up onto the leg of his jeans and he has to laugh. Knowing his luck, he’s going to walk in to find Max has quit and taking his shit home, and something’s caught on fire. Instead the building is silent, which means William’s already at work with Max and rats haven’t eaten through the soundproofing. He goes into the closet that serves as a kitchen and starts a fresh pot of coffee. 

Tom comes in as soon as it finishes perking, which is apparently his super power. “Is there coffee?”

“Freshly made.”

“You want a cup?”

“With every fiber of my being.”

Tom nods and goes and gets two mugs and fills them both, pouring some of the dry creamer he likes into his and leaving Sean’s black. He sits on the low filing cabinet next to Sean’s desk. “Got your text.”

“New act signed the other day. He’s acoustic, but could probably use some back up guitar if you’re interested. Standard rates.”

“Standard as in industry standard or standard as in ‘The Sean Van Vleet sub-sub-sub standard’ standard?”

“Or you could just eat Top Ramen for another month and a half.”

“Oooh. Bitchy. Did Daphne break up with you again?”

“Daphne broke up with me a year and a half ago.”

“Huh. Who are we on now?” He frowns, concentrating. “Linda? Ravenna? Rebecca spelled with seven c’s, a k, and a silent q?”

“Her name was Rebekah with no c’s and one k.”

“And an H. Was that the last one?”

“You’re a complete dick, Conrad.” Sean flips him off and digs a file out of his desk. “Her name was Promise.”

“And was she full of it?”

“Seriously, fuck you.”

“I meant full of promise, I don’t know what you meant.” He kicks the filing cabinet with his heel and squints at the paperwork Sean’s filling out. “Max like him?”

“They’re already in the studio together. So far they’re getting along, but I sense at least one clash of wills, the most pathetic fistfight in the history of the world, and enough attitude to power a generator. I think I’m collecting divas.”

“I’m not a diva.”

“That’s why you’re a contract worker.” He turns the paperwork so Tom can sign. “You know the drill.”

“Hey, this is only the sub-sub standard contract. Did you come into a windfall?”

“This kid’s going to be a windfall. Wait until you hear him.” He takes the contract back from Tom and slips it into another folder. “He’s going to tour. Short ones to start out, close to home. You could ride along. Make a little extra.”

“Babysit?”

“I don’t think he needs it, no. He’s smart and driven. Maybe keeping an eye on him a bit, but mostly just moral support.”

“Ah.” Tom nods and takes a long drink of coffee, his eyebrows visible over the edge of the cup.

“Ah?” Sean waves his hand for Tom to continue. “What ‘ah’?”

“You’re being protective.”

“I just told you, he’s going to put Empires Records on the map. Of course I’m protective. He’s an investment. I don’t want him getting derailed by some of the shit that’s out there.” He points at Tom. “You _know_ the shit that’s out there.”

“Yeah. But he’s young, so that shit’s going to happen whether I’m there or not. You know that. In fact, me being along is likely to cause that shit to happen. And you know that too. So something is up.”

“Investment.”

“Bullshit.” Tom lifts the camera he’s got around his neck and snaps a photo of Sean. It’s ever-present, so Sean never even notices it anymore until the flash goes off in his face. “If he’s that vital you’d have your ass in the car with him. Ergo...”

“Who the fuck actually says ‘ergo’?”

“Lots of people.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what people you hang out with, Conrad, but no one in the real world says ‘ergo’ unless they’re quoting fucking Descartes. And even then they do it in fucking English.” Sean drinks his coffee and glares at the picture on the wall. It’s one Tom took and it’s gorgeous, which only serves to piss him off more. 

“Wow. You’re in a mood. I’m going to go see Max now that I’ve sold my soul to the devil in your desk drawer. See if this kid’s half of what you say he is.”

“He is.”

“Are you thinking with your business acumen or your dick?”

Sean’s head snaps around and he nails Tom with a hard glare. “Don’t fucking insult what I give to this place. It’s _everything_. I’m not going to jeopardize it for anything, least of all a piece of ass.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Tom nods and moves out of the office. Sean shoves away from his desk and kicks the side of the filing cabinet then the wall. He hits the intercom button and snaps that he’ll be out the rest of the day. He doesn’t give Max a chance to answer, just turns it off and walks out of his office, slamming the door behind him. 

He drives home, speeding like he wants to get caught. No one pulls him over though and the tension in his chest feels like an anxiety attack, so he parks his car on the street not far from his apartment and walks to the closest bar. He orders a shot and a beer, chasing the whiskey with the cold yeasty taste of whatever was on tap. He taps the shot glass for a second one and then tells the bartender to just pour a third at the same time. He slams both shots back and drains half the beer that’s left.

He props his elbow on the bar and rests his head on his palm. His heart’s still racing, but he can feel the liquor sliding through him like a warm blanket smothering everything. He keeps hearing Tom’s words, questioning his motives for signing William. It was about the talent, the potential, the skill. Not about the fact that his brain apparently had other intentions. Max thinks William is talented, which means that Sean was right. He did the right thing. His instincts were on track.

Having a hard on for him is just an added bonus of crap Sean doesn’t need and certainly doesn’t want to deal with. He’ll turn him over to Max and Tom and stay away from him. He built his company on passion and ethics and Max’s parents’ money and hours working crap jobs to pay them back. He’s not going to let one stupid, talented, funny, completely unaware he’s gorgeous, underage even though he’s emancipated, and clever kid ruin that. Ruin him and everything he’s worked for. 

“Give me another shot. Or three.”

“You’re not driving.” 

“I have no intention of going anywhere until you kick me out, and then I’m going to sit on your doorstep until you open again. Three goddamned whiskeys, please.”

The bartender pours and Sean drinks. It’s possible he calls Promise at some point and tells her he didn’t mean to be a dick right before proceeding to be a dick and getting hung up on. He might call Tom and tell him that he can take his self-righteous and omniscient brain and fuck himself on a merry-go-round. He definitely calls Max’s house and ends up with Max’s dad standing beside him at the bar, turning him around and helping him off his stool, then both of his parents hauling his ass up to his apartment and pouring him into bed.

Someone takes off his shoes and someone pats his head. He’s not sure if it’s the same person or if someone just has seven or eight hands. He’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating until he’s pretty sure he’s passed out.

**

He wakes up the next morning with a headache roughly the size of Alaska. His eyes feel like he took them out and rubbed them on sandpaper for a couple of hours, and he’s pretty sure a rhinoceros died in his mouth. He fumbles for his nightstand. Whoever put him to bed had to have left a glass of water and a couple bottles of aspirin. There’s nothing there, so he risks opening one eye just enough to make out shadows. There’s a Max-shaped blob in the chair across the room, which means there was water and aspirin and now there’s vindictiveness, vengeance, and just plain being-an-asshole. “What?”

“You want to tell me what’s going on so I can go back to work?”

“You have a key. You don’t need me to go to work. Have at it. Just give me the fucking water and aspirin and turn out the lights and leave me to die in peace.”

“Do you know what your bar tab was?”

He opens his eyes and it feels like a railroad spike goes through his head. Sitting up makes him want to puke, and glaring at Max is the hardest thing he’s ever done. “I’ll pay your parents back. I always do.” He gets to his feet and hangs onto things until he can get to the bathroom. He pees for what feels like hours and then slumps down onto the floor, leaning against the shower door. He closes his eyes again, squeezing them tighter when Max comes in and snaps on the light. 

“What’s going on, Sean?”

“Headache, possible vomit. Anything can happen in the next twenty seconds.” He covers his eyes with his hands for good measure. “Turn off the light.”

Max does, but Sean can hear him sit down by the door. “I’m serious.”

“I can’t have a lost weekend?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“A lost long weekend.” His head doesn’t pound so much as it feels like someone’s slamming a hi-hat cymbal incessantly. “Go away, okay? I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Do we need to break his contract?” Max says it quietly, and Sean knows what it costs him. He’s tallied the cost in his head already several times.

“No.”

“Sean...”

He forces his eyes open and looks steadily at Max. “No. This is business. I signed him because he’s going to be great, and we’re going to all make a name for ourselves. You’re going to be a well-respected and sought-after producer, he’s going to become a huge star. It’s business.”

“So why did you try to deplete the supply of a bar all by yourself last night?” He asks it gently, because Max is deceptively sweet and innocent. Or maybe because he’s Sean’s best friend.

“Because it’s just business.” He gets to his knees then hangs onto the sink to get to his feet. “Don’t worry, Max.”

“I’m worried about _you_ , asshole.”

“Don’t.” He looks at himself in the mirror, glad it’s only the ambient light from the other room, since he looks like shit. He can’t imagine how much worse it would be if he turned on the lights. “Just give me today to get my shit together, and it’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“He’s just a kid, Sean.”

“I fucking _know_ that.” He closes his eyes tightly, his shout echoing in the shit acoustics of the bathroom. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not _going_ to do anything. I’ve done my part, now it’s hands off. You make his record, Tom hits the road with him. I’m out of it.”

Max doesn’t say anything for a long time and Sean uses the silence to turn on the water and stick his head under the faucet, half of it gets on his face and half of it gets in his mouth, so he considers it a win. He opens the medicine cabinet and finds a nearly empty bottle of something that is probably a painkiller, so he shakes out two and swallows them dry. 

“I’m going to go to work.” 

Sean closes his eyes and nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You owe me Diet Coke.”

“Yeah. And your parents a million dollars or something. I know. Your dad should have just gotten out my credit card.”

“My parents have a better interest rate than your shit card.”

“A deal with Satan has a better interest rate than my credit card.” He rests his head against the mirror. “I promise, Max.”

“Yeah.” He gets to his feet and rests a hand on Sean’s back, warm and comforting. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nods, his hair rasping on the glass. He stays there until he hears the door shut and lock behind Max then he strips off his clothes. They reek of beer and whiskey and despair, but he’s relieved Max’s parents didn’t try to take them off of him. He leaves them in a pile and crawls back under the blankets. He’s not sure if he’s hoping to pass out again or die, but he’s willing to take either if it will make his head shut up.

**

The next morning he girds himself with a huge travel mug of coffee, sunglasses, a hoodie, and a flannel jacket before going in search of his car. Fortunately he’d been sober when he parked it, so it’s not too difficult to find, and he’s smart enough to turn off the radio before he turns the key, so nothing blares out at him and rips through the shred of humanity he’s wrenched back from the brink. It’s early enough that traffic is only somewhat fucked, so he gets in before anyone else. He makes more coffee immediately and goes into his office.

He listens to his messages and makes notes for himself, burying himself in the minutiae of paying bills and looking through upcoming events for new talent. He mostly relies on word of mouth, but he got where he is because he’s good at finding people no one else can, does, or thinks to check out the places he looks. He hears the front door open and pulls a two liter bottle of Diet Coke out of a box behind his desk and sets it on the corner. Max peeks in and smiles, coming over to take possession. He sits in the chair and Sean looks up at him. He’s still got his sunglasses on, and he doesn’t foresee that changing any time soon.

“Wow, you still look like shit. Did you shower?”

“Showering only keeps me from smelling like shit. The rest is just my god-given ugliness.”

“Right. You’re practically an ogre. Seriously, did you shower?”

“Do I smell like vomit?”

Max sniffs loudly. “Vaguely.”

“No, that’s my cologne.”

“Aqua Vomit for Men?”

“Hey, it’s going to give Old Spice a run for its money.” He move some papers around on his desk. “I lined up a couple of shows to hit. You want to come with me?”

“This weekend? Yeah, I could do that. I’m busy all week though. William.” He says the name cautiously as if it might cause Sean to transform or something. 

“Yeah. I figured. I’ll catch the weekday shows by myself. You work with the kid and get something good for us.” He pushes his glasses up with two fingers as he rubs them alongside his nose. “I’ll see if I can scrounge up some demos from the ones I see. Let you listen.”

“To shitty production values?”

“To the bands, dickhead.” Sean leans back in his seat and clears his throat. “Shut my door on your way out, would you?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Max stands up, cradling his Diet Coke. “You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, I may not have the experience you do in certain areas, but I know how to listen. And I’m smart sometimes.”

“You’re smart all the time. It’s just my head. Even you can’t fix that, can’t mix it so it hits all the right notes and sounds good. Even auto-tune wouldn’t help.”

“Ha. As if I’d use auto-tune.”

Sean smiles. “Get to work before I tell your boss what a slacker you are.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sit back while I do all the actual work and make you millions.” Max smiles back and grabs the door handle just as the sound of the front door opening reaches them. “It’s good this time, Sean.”

“I know, Max. I know.”

**

He works on the computer until his eyes blur, playing demo after demo and listening to something with a spark. There’s nothing original, nothing everyone hasn’t heard a million times before. Scream-o, hardcore bands pretending they’re punk rock and Bon Jovi knock-offs. All sorts of wanna-bes instead of being themselves, and it shows in their music, in the lack of heart. 

He finally gives up when his stomach is louder than the music and he actually thinks he can keep something down. There’s a crappy bar down the street and an even crappier sandwich shop in the other direction. His stomach revolts at the mere thought of the _smell_ of beer, so he heads the opposite direction. He orders his usual, hold the crappy, but it comes like it always does, with too much mayo, not enough cheese, and lettuce that looks like it’s seen better days. Maybe back during world war two. 

He snags a bag of chips and a drink and pays, glad that crappy still costs next to nothing. Paying good money for this shit would be a crime. He steps outside and nearly trips over a child about the size of a puppy, and a dog about the size of a child. The mom gives him a look of apology and he nods, turns around, and runs into William, knocking him flat on his ass _again_ as well as spilling all of his drink on him. 

“Oh. Shit.” Sean tosses his sandwich on top of one of the outdoor tables and grabs the napkin dispenser, pulling tissue thin pieces of paper out as he bends down and tries to clean William up. “Sorry. Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Sean knows it’s not fine because William sounds like some sort of polite British gentleman, not saying what he’s really thinking and letting his tone say it for him. “I was hoping someone would bathe me in some sort of wet, sticky substance today.”

Sean’s brain skids straight into the gutter and he hands William the napkin dispenser and gets to his feet, away from William as far as he can without looking like he’s in some sort of horror movie. “Well, what do you know? I guess I get to grant all your wishes these days.” 

“Yeah. Well, if you can make dry clothes happen, I’m sure that would be appreciated, since Max isn’t likely to let me back into the studio in these.”

“I think we’ve got some sweats somewhere. And I know we have t-shirts. That we’ll sell. One day. But they were a great deal, so we have them now.” He stops himself before he keeps babbling. “Look, you head back to the studio, and I’ll get food for you and Max.”

“Max knows where the clothes are?”

“Yeah. He’ll show you. I’ll call him. What do you want to eat?”

“Turkey on wheat, lettuce, tomato, and pickle. Nothing else. Bread toasted.” 

“Okay. Got it. Twenty minutes, tops.” He holds his hand out and helps William to his feet, careful not to prolong the contact, dropping it as soon as he’s standing. “Drink? Chips?”

“Hard to be thirsty right now. Iced tea. Just plain chips.”

“Right. Okay. Well. Squish back to work. I’ll be right there.” He closes his eyes as soon as William turns around and wants to beat his head against the wall. “Squish back to work, Van Vleet? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He gets Max’s favorite and William’s order, replacing his own drink in the process. When he gets back, William’s sitting in the main room’s one chair. He’s wearing sweats that only reach mid-calf and a t-shirt that’s probably a size too large. Sean can tell where he’s raked his hands through his hair, probably sticky-wet from the soda still. 

“Lunch.” He lifts up the bag of food as well as the soda carrier and then sets them on the coffee table. He starts unpacking for something to do, sitting on the floor across from William. “Max, I got your usual. And got mocked in your stead.”

“Mustard sandwiches are great,” Max informs him as he sits down at the end of the coffee table on the floor and reaches for his Diet Coke. “And they never know how to charge for them because they confuse them, so half the time I get them for free.”

William looks from one to the other and then sits down on the floor. He opens his sandwich and inspects it, probably doubting that Sean got it right. He puts the bread back without comment and lifts the sandwich up, taking a bite. Sean has to force himself not to watch. He opens his bag of chips and shoves a couple in his mouth, chewing them almost all the way before speaking. “How’s it coming?”

“You’re a disgusting human being.” Max pushes his hair back behind his ear. “Good. We’ve got two songs done. We’re going to try and get another one tracked before we talk about musicians. Tom said he’d help with guitar if we need it, and I think Ryan’s back in town. Not sure if we’ll need them, but it’s an option.”

Sean swallows and nods and risks a glance at William. “How are you feeling about it?”

“Good. Max has been really educational. Helping me understand what’s going on, what we’re doing. He’s really patient.”

“Max is a fan of putting out the best product, which means he’ll take years if I let him. We’ll try to stop him from keeping you in the studio quite that long. At least in one stretch.”

“I can’t tell whether or not to take that as a compliment.”

Sean shakes his head, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t. It’s just safer that way.”

**

Sean works the next day in relative silence. He knows William and Max are working down the hall, but he’s up to his ears in quarterly taxes, spending nearly a full day on the phone with Max’s dad wrangling expenses and profits and losses. The only thing he can focus on is that there’s actually something in the profit column, which means he’s doing something right. 

After work he heads home to change into the clothes he wears to clubs with varies from his work wardrobe only by his shoes. Sneakers for boots. He gets his ID, credit card, and phone, then snatches his keys off the table by the door. The table sways dangerously, but it hasn’t crashed and broken yet, so Sean heads out, locking the deadbolt behind him. 

He’s there officially to see the second opener, but he doesn’t ever miss part of the gig. Sometimes there’s something raw that he and Max can polish and shine up, something he doesn’t expect. He gets the one drink he allows himself, loosening up enough to get a feel for the crowd. The headliners are hometown boys making it good, the kind that asks local bands to open for them to give them a shot at getting heard, getting seen, getting a leg up. It’s one of the things Sean loves about the Chicago scene.

The first band comes on and Sean finishes his drink, setting it on the bar. The crowd’s into them, but Sean can tell they don’t have what it takes. The guitarist is impressive and intense and Sean asks one of the girls what his name is. She shouts ‘Mike Carden’ in his ear and Sean types it in his phone. It never hurts.

He glances over the crowd, wondering what they see in the band. It’s possible they just want something loud to explode out of their heads with. Sean can understand that far too well. Someone’s got a strobe set up, flashing in an irregular rhythm that doesn’t match the music. It helps Sean look though, so he stares out into the crowd, counting beats until the next bright flash. 

Well, shit.

William’s in the middle of the crowd, towering over most of the kids around him. He’s mouthing the words, but Sean can tell something’s sitting wrong with him the way it’s sitting wrong with Sean. There’s a disconnect between the lyrics and the music, something that’s not quite meshing. Sean goes back to the bar and pours himself a water from the cooler at the end of the counter, trying to focus as the first band ends their set and starts to break down. A quick look at the flyer tells him they’re called ‘Jodie’, which is an awful name for a band.

The crowd still hums, electric as Jodie breaks down and the next group sets up. There are a few shouts and catcalls to the second band that they wave off. Sean makes a note, jotting a few things down in his phone. He listens to the whole set and they start out strong, fading toward the end. The crowd doesn’t though, and the room is alive with sound even after they’ve stopped playing. 

Sean makes a few more notes, drinks another glass of water and tells himself he should go. He’s heard the other two openers, and the main band is out of his league. They’ve already piqued the interest of a few major labels which means Sean can get out, get an early night, maybe read or watch a movie.

Instead he moves down to the floor as the third band sets up. Weaving between bodies, he manages to get to the center of the room. He’s not next to William, but he can see him, and as soon as the music starts up again, he watches. Blatantly. There’s an ease and grace to William’s movements that seem at odds with the coltish way he moves most of the time, like he hasn’t fully grown into his limbs. Sean migrates in his direction, watching sweat bead on William’s skin and slide down his throat, curve over his collarbones before it disappears down his shirt. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Sean is so completely and utterly fucked.

He moves over to William and insinuates himself against him, rocking with the sway of his body. His fingers curve over William’s hips. “Bathroom.”

William turns his head and his eyes widen. They’re glassy with either booze or drugs, but he recognizes Sean and nods, shifting away to make a path between the other kids jumping up and down, hoisting themselves up to surf on a sea of hands. Sean follows him into the bathroom, into the handicapped stall. William slides the lock in place and smiles. His voice is slightly slurred, but understandable as he trails his fingers down Sean’s neck. “Hi, Sean.”

“Hey.” His voice is rough, muted by the rough pounding of the music. He shakes his head, dropping down to his knees, hands on William’s fly before he even hits the floor. He feels like he’s shaking, but his fingers get William’s jeans open and his dick out without a problem. Sean groans, because William is hard and hot and _big_ , pushing against the hand Sean has wrapped around him toward Sean’s mouth.

Parting his lips, Sean leans into William’s dick, letting him press it into his mouth, forcing his jaw open wider. William arches, head falling back against the wall. Sean curves his hands around William’s hips and takes him as deep as he can, feeling the pressure of head of William’s cock as it hits the back of his throat. Sean moans around him, pressure from his tongue and the roof of his mouth holding William still for a moment before William pushes his hips forward, thrusting into Sean’s mouth.

He holds William’s hips, not trying to change his rhythm, just lost in the hard thrusts. His jaw aches in all the right ways, William still sliding deep against his tongue. Sean grips a little harder, trying to hold him against Sean’s mouth on the inner thrust, not letting him pull out until Sean’s mouth closes around him, sucking hard and tight. William’s body starts jerking erratically, his hands scratching at the wall behind him, fingertips catching on the strips of calking between the tiles. Sean pulls him in again and presses up with his tongue until it’s too hard, too tight, too much, and then suddenly William is coming, gasping, spilling down Sean’s throat.

Sean sucks him until William pushes him away. Sean falls back against the opposite wall of the stall, trying to get his legs out from under him as he ends up on his ass on the ground. He licks his lips, leaving them open to breathe, the sound loud in his own ears. Fuck. He presses the back of his hand against his mouth and swallows hard. The taste of William lingers in his throat. He’s pretty sure that, given William’s age and their contract, he’s broken at least one law and probably jeopardized the one thing that means the most in the world to him. 

William’s slumped against the opposite wall, staring at Sean. His pants are still undone, but he’s tucked his dick back inside. “That...”

“Yeah.” Sean gets back to his knees and uses the door’s lock as some measure of support as he slides up the stall wall, managing to get to his feet. “I...how...how are you getting home?”

“A friend.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Good.” He fumbles the lock open. “I should go. And see you. Tomorrow. Later.”

“Sean.” He looks over at William, and he’s not sure what William sees in his expression, but his face closes down and he shakes his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**

He doesn’t drink when he gets home, but that’s mostly because Max got rid of all his alcohol after his binge the other night and he’s too out of it to get more. He keeps playing it over and over in his head and wondering what the _fuck_ he’d been thinking. 

He hadn’t been thinking. Or if he had, it had been with his dick instead of his brain. His dick that he’s lying in bed jerking tightly in his lotioned fist because he can’t get the sight of William’s face as he came out of his head. Can’t get the taste of him out of his mouth. Sean squeezes his eyes closed tight and tries to black it all out, but instead it’s there in technicolor and surround sound. Sean slams his head back into his pillow and groans, hips jerking upward as he comes.

He slumps back on the bed and manages to actually kick his jeans the rest of the way off, even though his boxer-briefs are still tangled around his ankles. He shakes them off too and stands up, heading to the bathroom to clean up. According to his mirror, the legal and illegal smoke from the club has left his eyes bloodshot, and his mouth is still swollen, tinged red from where he’d bitten it as tried to hold off his orgasm as long as possible.

He washes up and then tugs on a pair of sweats that have seen better days and a Midtown t-shirt. He digs his phone out of his jeans pocket before throwing them in the corner with the rest of his dirty clothes and dials Max.

“What the fuck do you want, Van Vleet? It’s three in the morning.”

“You remember how you told me to call you if I was having a crisis?”

“Are you at a bar again?”

“I just blew William Beckett in the bathroom at The Fortune.”

“I know you did not just say what I think you just said.”

Sean exhales roughly. “Come over?”

“Is he there with you?”

“No. Damn it, Steger. Just...” He blows out another breath. “Please?”

“Give me a half hour. I’m going to have to steal Danielle’s car.”

Max is as good as his word, letting himself into Sean’s apartment almost exactly thirty minutes later. He tosses his keys on Sean’s precarious table and comes over to the couch, shoving Sean’s feet to the floor before sitting down. He turns to face Sean, arms crossed over his chest. Even his hair looks angry.

“Trust me. You can’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

Max barks a laugh. “You want to bet on that?”

“No. Not really.” He rubs his forehead as if that will make the aspirin he took work faster to kill his headache. “But right now strategy is far more important than telling me I’m a complete fucking idiot who fucked up big time.”

“You blew one of our _artists_.”

“ _I know that_!” 

“One you _swore_ to me was going to put our name on the map, make our _mark_ and you fuck it up for a _blowjob_? And not even a blowjob. Giving _him_ a blowjob. What the _fuck_ , Sean?”

“ _I know_.” His voice fills the room, sucking all the other sound out like a vacuum. “Trust me, I _know_. Now can we please get past the part where you hate me forever and see if we can salvage this thing?”

“Tell me he hit on you.” Sean doesn’t say anything and Max grabs one of the worn throw pillows and smacks Sean across the face with it. “God, you fucking...” He gets up and swings his arms back and forth, pacing the room. The motion doesn’t help Sean’s headache, but he asked Max to come over specifically for this. It takes Max so long to talk that Sean’s about to give up the belief that there’s anything he can do. “I can only think of one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You resign.”

Sean feels like he’s been punched in the junk, then the stomach as he bent over, and then gotten a roundhouse to his jaw to knock him out. He’d come to the same conclusion by the time Max had arrived, but he kept hoping that Max would save his ass. “Resign.”

“You’ll still be majority owner.”

Sean nods and rubs his hands over his thighs. “Yeah.”

“Sean...”

“No. No. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I fucked up, and I’m not going to take what we worked so hard for down with me. Maybe Danielle could help you run it. Tom could scout talent.” He nods again. “Yeah. It’ll work out. Be fine.”

“Sean, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He looks up at Max and manages a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. You should get home. Get some sleep. I’ll be in in the morning and clean stuff up. Make calls. Get it sorted.” Max opens his mouth to say something and Sean shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

**

Max isn't there when Sean gets to the office, which is a small mercy. He'd rather do this alone without someone's concerned or worried glances, without seeing everyone's disappointment. He fucked up, and he knows it, but it doesn't mean that he wants to have a constant reminder. It'll be bad enough when Max and Tom and the rest talk about working and Sean gets to be a pencil pusher in the background. Making music in name only.

His office doesn't have much stuff in it since most of his furniture is cast off and Goodwill, plus he sucks with a level, so his shelves tend to slope a little. He does have his business management books that are just piled on the floor, but he'll leave those for Danielle. He's not going to need them. He does have a baseball and glove on his shelf, even though he has no idea how it hasn't slid off yet, and posters on the walls. Concert flyers for some of the artists he's signed. Concert flyers and posters for bands that got him into this career. He digs the Diet Cokes from his 'keep Max happy' stash out of their box and drops the glove inside. The ball starts rolling, and he catches it before it goes too far. It feels good in his hand, a steady hard weight. Without thinking, he turns and hurls it at the wall.

He nails one of the framed posters, the glass shattering and spraying all over the floor. The ball bounces off and smacks onto the top of his desk, ending up in coffee cup half-full of old coffee. It hits the cup hard enough that it cracks. Sean grabs it off the desk before coffee ends up on all the paperwork littering the surface. He tosses it in the trash, ball included

Slumping in the chair, he drops his elbows on the desk and puts his head in his hands. He sits there for a moment and then digs the aspirin out of his desk and dry swallows four of them. They get stuck in his throat and burn, but he manages to get them down. His eyes ache, and he tells himself it’s solely because of the pills, and not because he’s managed to fuck up his entire life. He doesn’t believe himself, which is the root of the whole problem. If he was able to lie to himself, he wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.

“Sean?”

His head jerks up and he sniffs, clearing his throat. Danielle and Tom are standing there, which means that Max has told them how colossally he’s managed to ruin everything. “Yeah. Hey. I’ll borrow a vacuum from the place next door and clean up the glass. Sorry about that.”

“Are you okay?” Danielle’s like a sister, which makes Tom like a brother-in-law as well as a guitarist-for-hire. Being like family doesn’t make it any better. Maybe makes it worse. 

“Yeah. Absolutely. Almost done cleaning shit out. Give me an hour to get the files in order and you won’t even know I was here.” He manages not to choke on the words, not to let the hitch in his chest change his voice. “I’m leaving my stash of Diet Coke to get Max to do my bidding and my business management books. My filing system is actually pretty descent. There’s nothing outstanding to be dealt with, other than follow-through on the current contracts. Three records in post-production and two in recording. Should have plenty of time to settle in before anything happens. First release isn’t slated for another four months.”

“Sean...”

He looks down at his desk and holds up his hand. “Don’t, okay? I don’t know what Max told you, and I don’t want to know. I know what I did and how badly I screwed the pooch, okay? So...just don’t.”

“You still want me to tag along with the kid?” Tom is always quiet, but for some reason, the question sounds loud in Sean’s ears. 

“That’s up to the new boss. She knows what she’s doing. Let her meet him, get a feel for his personality. She’ll tell you what to do.” He still can’t look at them. “Just give me an hour, okay?”

“Yeah.” Danielle takes a step back out of the door. Sean can see her catch Tom’s hand and tug on it. “We can bring you back lunch. Brunch. Something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry. Thanks.” 

They don’t say anything else until they’re almost at the door, and Sean can’t hear the words, just their worried tone. He wonders what they think he’ll do. Jump off a bridge? Lay down on the El tracks? Just because he’s not going to be in charge anymore doesn’t mean that he didn’t build this company, work for it, sweat for it. It’s still good and still his. He looks around the room. He did this. That’s worth something.

Shaking his head, he gathers all the papers that are on his desk and taps them so they’re neatly stacked. He starts going through them, one by one, putting them in the files they belong in if they’re done, setting them in stacks he can label for Danielle if they’re not. It’s methodical and brainless, so he’s barely started before he fires up his computer and starts his music, something loud and hard enough to beat the thoughts out of his head with rough guitars and a pounding bass. It doesn’t help his headache, but it definitely helps his heart.

**

Max sends him the rough cut of William’s album two weeks later. Sean ignores it, keeping himself too busy going to shows, staying back by the bar and refusing to look at the crowd. He sends emails to Danielle and Max, telling them who they should go listen to and see if they like them. Danielle sends him back emails that ask him questions about what the fuck he actually does and how he does it, Why he fucked up so she has to figure this out, and when the hell he’s getting his ass back into the office so she can strangle him with a hair tie. He reminds her that threats aren’t likely to get him in, given that he’s not into the kinky shit, and wouldn’t Tom be upset to know she was flirting with him. That earned him a very graphically descriptive suggestion about what he could do with himself that made Sean laugh.

Laughing tries very hard to change into crying or drinking, but he curbs the desire for either by going to the hardest thrash metal show he can find and throwing himself into the pit, screaming at the universe under lightning fast riffs and bruised ribs. He sleeps the entire next day and a half, and when he wakes up, his stomach is telling him off. He showers and dresses, running his fingers through his wet hair as he grabs his keys and heads out the door. He has cereal and milk that’s probably older than he is, so there’s no chance he’s opening his refrigerator _ever_ again, since there is possibly a sentient being in it, which means he’s eating at the diner.

It’s a Sunday afternoon right before the mass church exodus, so it’s not too crowded when he walks in. He nods to the waitress and heads toward his usual table in the back, stopping when he sees William sitting there, sipping one of his ridiculous tea concoctions. Sean pauses and exhales slowly before finally signaling to the waitress for a coffee and sliding in opposite William. “Hey.”

“Hey.” William looks at him, his eyes giving nothing away. He’s too young to be good at that look, which makes Sean think there’s more behind his emancipation than just wanting to sign recording contracts. “You disappeared.”

“Yeah. Things-” He clears his throat. “Things came up.”

William’s mouth twitches, and Sean knows he’s trying not to laugh. And failing miserably, the fucker. “Max said he sent you the rough cut.”

“He did.”

“Have you listened?”

Sean thinks about lying, but decides against it. “No. Not yet.” William’s face falls, and Sean feels like shit. “I’ve been busy. Going to shows. Looking at possible new acts for the label.”

“Right. Of course.” He stares down into his tea and looks exactly like what he is, which is an almost seventeen-year-old kid. 

“I’m going to. I had it set aside for tonight or tomorrow. My days off. I want to be able to pay attention to it, you know?”

“Yeah. That’s fine. You don’t owe me an explanation.” He takes a drink and makes a face. “My tea’s cold. I guess that means I’ve been here too long. I’ll see you around.”

He starts to get up and Sean reaches out, grabbing his wrist. He’s careful to keep his fingers light so that William can easily pull away if he wants. Sean’s not sure if he wants him to or not. “Don’t go. Let me treat you to breakfast to celebrate.”

“I can pay my own way.”

Sean looks at him and nods, releasing his arm. “Stay. Please. Tell me what you thought of the process, of working with Max, what you think of the end result, what you’d change if you could, what you’ll change if Max lets you.”

William sits, tentatively at first, but then Sean gets his coffee and the waitress brings menus and another tea for William. William starts talking and Sean can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm and thoughts and opinions on Max and the way Max works and what recording was like and the few times he actually put his foot down and made Max listen to _him_. By the time he finishes, they each have a stack of pancakes and a side dish of two servings of bacon in front of them with melting butter and a pitcher of hot syrup. 

“I’m impressed. Most people won’t stand up to Max at all.”

“I plied him with Diet Coke too.” 

William smiles at him, and Sean feels it in his gut. “Well. That’s really the safest way to go. Bribery is not just for disc jockeys in the fifties.”

“You know I’m too young to get that joke, right?”

Sean smiles, and leans back against the seat, stroking his beard with one hand. “But you got the joke.”

“You’re lucky I did, otherwise I’d be sitting here staring at you in confusion.”

Shaking his head, Sean reaches for his coffee and takes a long drink. He can’t look away from William and every danger signal in his body is screaming at him. “I knew you’d get it.”

“You did, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” 

William’s cheeks darken, reddening against the sharp slope of his cheekbones. He shoves his fork into his stack of pancakes and tears off a bite, ducking his head as he chews so he’s not looking at Sean anymore. “So.” Sean clears his throat and straightens up in his seat, cutting off a bite for himself. “You’re happy with the end result.”

“Yeah. I think so. I mean, it’s definitely better than anything I could ever do on my own.”

“Okay, kid? That’s not the ringing endorsement I want to hear, and it’s the kind of thing that will send Max into an apoplectic fit.”

William grins, his head still ducked down, but Sean can see the changes in his face even from that angle. “It’s good. I think it’s really good. I mean, I’m sort of biased? But Max was happy with it, so I figure that _has_ to mean something, right?”

“Definitely means something.” Sean takes a bite and chews, watching as William attacks his pancake again. He’s more of the rip and tear and eat, whereas Sean cuts his bites precisely. It seems like it should be the opposite, given their personalities, but Sean likes the way it feels off, the unpredictability of it, of them. “I really am excited to listen to it.”

“I want to know what you think.”

“You could come over while I listen.” The words slip out and Sean doesn’t remember when the filter between his brain and his mouth stopped working. 

“No. You won’t be honest then.” 

He should be grateful that William gives him an out, but grateful isn’t really the word. Upset? Annoyed? Hurt? He’s not sure what the right word is for feeling like William doesn’t really give a shit about being around him, because he’s not obsessed the way Sean is. “Right. Of course. I mean, I don’t usually listen with the artist there. It’s bad business.”

“I could come over later? And we could talk about it.”

Sean hears the question, and he’s not sure if there’s hope in there or if he’s imagining things. Either way, he should say no. At most, he should arrange to meet William in neutral territory like the diner and discuss it there. “Yeah? I could order dinner.” He glances up without meaning to and William’s looking at him, his gaze steady. “If you want. You can even pay for half if you want.”

“I probably should. Business meals. Keep receipts.” He nods, but still doesn’t look away. “Taxes and all that stuff.”

“Absolutely. I can write this off because we’re talking about business. In fact, I mention the company in every conversation so I can do that. Buy popcorn at the zoo? Tell the guy that I run a record studio and claim my buck-ninety.” His mouth twists into a smile that fades almost before it starts. “Used to. Used to run a record studio.”

He pushes his plate away, his stomach suddenly sour. William’s brow furrows and he swings his foot, his toe connecting with Sean’s shin and forcing him to look at him. “Because of me?”

“No. Because of me. What I did.”

“To me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Well, I kind of think it is.” He pushes his plate toward the center of the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t I get some sort of say in what’s going on?”

“No.”

“No?” His voice is suddenly dangerous. “So I’m some sort of object in this? What I think or want doesn’t matter at all?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you just implied it.” William kicks him again, harder. “That’s what all this is about? You left your job because you gave me head?”

Sean closes his eyes and hopes that everything will just disappear by the time he opens them. It doesn’t. It never does. “Can we not discuss this here?”

“Fine, where is a good place to discuss you completely ignoring my agency? Do you think that, because I’m younger or because I’m just ‘talent’ or because I signed a contract with you that I don’t have any kind of say in what happens to me? I would assume, by the fact that you _had_ me sign a contract and I was able to sign it without a lawyer present, that you respected that I was intelligent enough to say what I wanted.”

“This isn’t about the contract and, please, keep your voice down. Especially if you’re trying to make an argument about being an adult.”

William inhales deeply and stands up, digging his wallet out. Sean’s getting used to this scene. William pulls out his money and sets it on the table, holding it down with two knuckles as he leans in toward Sean. “You decided what I did and didn’t want without discussing it with me. You decided what I could and couldn’t decide without my input. You assumed a whole hell of a lot, Sean. If you run your business like you run your life, maybe it’s a good thing someone else is in charge now.”

He turns and heads toward the door, and Sean’s had about enough. “Hey. Wait a second.” He throws his own money down and follows William out the door. “I said wait.” He grabs William’s arm again, tighter than he had earlier, and forces him to turn around. “Don’t walk off.”

“Oh, what? I’m not allowed to decide when to end a conversation even? You have to have the last word?”

“I am _good_ at what I do. I stepped aside because I didn’t want to compromise the _company_.”

“Which would only be compromised if I said or did something about what you did. If I accused you of anything. Which, if you’d stuck around, you’d know I had no intention of doing. Because I _didn’t_ stop you in the club. I didn’t even _think_ about stopping you because I _wanted_ it. You.” William exhales, the air stuttering out of his mouth. “I wanted it, Sean.”

“I didn’t give you a choice.”

“You didn’t walk out of there with anything broken, bruised, or bleeding. Which you would have if I hadn’t wanted it. I do know how to say no. I’m really, really good at it. I’m stubborn and annoying and not about to let anyone walk all over me. Authority doesn’t scare me. It usually makes me more determined to get my own way. You _can’t_ make me do something I don’t want to do, because I’ll fight you with everything I have if you try.”

Sean rubs his mouth with his hand, which is when he realizes he’s still got a tight grip on William’s wrist. “Fuck.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a Sharpie, holding the cap with his teeth to get it off. He turns William’s hand and writes his address on the inside of his forearm and wrist. “Address, in case you don’t remember. Give me two hours to listen to your rough cut. Then come over. We’ll talk about that. Then we’ll talk about this.”

William looks down at the ink on his arm then looks at Sean. He’s got a small smile on his face, that Sean is pretty sure might be triumph. The fucker. “Okay. Two hours. I’ll see you then.”

**

The album is, of course, everything Sean knew it would be. It’s still rough, and William’s voice is still young, but it’s gorgeous and Sean can hear the future of it in what William’s got now. He makes a few notes, mostly for Max, and then listens to it twice more. He makes a few more notes, because that’s what he is, what he does. He actually emails them to Max after the third listen because he keeps looking at the clock, and he’s not actually concentrating on the music. The part of his brain that’s not controlled by his cock keeps reminding him that William might actually want to talk about his album, and Sean really needs to pull it together, but the other part, which Sean has to admit is currently in charge, doesn’t give a shit.

He glances at the clock again, and it’s still a good ten minutes before William’s supposed to get there. Sean is sprawled on the couch, his legs out and spread. He closes his eyes and reaches down and rubs himself through his jeans. He’s tried very hard not to think about William or his dick in the past few weeks and he’s succeeded for the most part so long as he fell into bed exhausted and drunk. Unfortunately, he’s only really been able to succeed at the drunk part even though he’s upped his running to ten miles a day and kept as busy as possible. Which means he’s only jerked off thinking about it three and a half of the four weeks since it happened.

It’s not memory so much as anticipation that’s got his dick hard now under the heel of his hand, even though he knows he has to actually act like an adult and remind William that even if he does have his own agency here, he’s still legally under the age of consent. Only for six more months, but the law tends not to round up.

Even that thought doesn’t kill Sean’s erection, but it does get his hand off his dick. He goes into the kitchen and gets a glass of water from the tap and drinks it down. His water tastes awful at the best of times, and tonight it tastes like a disgusting mixture of metal and rotten eggs. He grabs a whiskey bottle of the top of his fridge and takes a healthy shot to get the taste out of his mouth as well as kill anything that might have been living in the water. He takes another shot just for courage and then puts the bottle back before he finishes the whole damn thing. 

His whole body jerks at the knock on the door, and he takes a few deep breaths before he goes to answer it. He also mocks himself mercilessly – not surprisingly in Max’s voice – about being a complete and totally romantic comedy heroine all of a sudden. He wipes his hands on his jeans and opens the door. William’s standing there absolutely failing to look confident. “Hey,” William says, and his voice isn't confident either.

Sean steps back. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” He walks in and looks around. Sean knows exactly what the place looks like, so he doesn’t have any illusions to what William’s thinking about his lifestyle. “I see you’ve really done something with the space.”

“I’m all about home decor.” Sean closes the door behind him. “I’d offer you something to drink, but that would require me having something that isn’t whiskey.”

“Whiskey’s fine.”

Sean snorts. “You’re very funny. Have a seat. I think I have some Diet Coke somewhere.” He starts to head back into the kitchen, but William grabs his arm. Sean’s eyes go to William’s long fingers wrapped around his forearm. There are dark lines on William’s pale skin where Sean had grabbed him earlier. Sean reaches over with his other hand and traces them slowly. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t run away from me.”

“I _have_ to run away from you. For my own sense of self-preservation. Sit down. I’ll get you a drink, and then we’ll talk about your album.” When William doesn’t let go, Sean grabs William’s wrist again and disengages his hand. “Apparently, just because there’s something you want, it doesn’t mean you get to take away the other person’s right to make a decision about it too. Or so someone told me.” He raises his eyebrows. “Or does that only apply when you both want it?”

“Maybe it only applies to me.” William smirks and lets Sean go, moving over to the coffee table and Sean’s laptop. “Did you listen?”

“I said I would. I don’t lie about music.” He heads to the kitchen for William’s Diet Coke and takes another pull from the whiskey bottle. “You want to talk or do you want to read my notes?”

“I’m already reading your notes.” William calls from the living room. “And they’re all for Max. That doesn’t tell me anything about the album. Just the technical side of it.”

“They’re not all for Max.” 

“No, some of them are your grocery list. Do I want to know why you need to look into industrial strength bleach?”

“You’ve met my apartment.” Sean comes back out into the main room and sets William’s drink on the coffee table before sitting on the floor opposite him and leaning on a beanbag that’s 90% duct tape. 

“I want to know what you think of the album.”

“That is what I think of it.” Sean points one finger at him. “You want to know what I think of you.”

“I see.” William rolls his eyes and leans back on the couch. “You invited me over to play a game of semantics. Can I just agree that you’re very clever so you’ll actually talk to me about this?”

Sean sits up a little straighter. “Yeah. Okay. Fair. I deserve that.”

“You do. You deserve more than that, honestly. You can’t decide that I’m an adult because you want to sign me and make money off of me, but then treat me like a kid when I don’t say or do the things you want, or when I want you to treat me like an adult and be honest with me. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Okay. Okay.” He holds up a hand. “You want to know what I think.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”

The urge to slap him is kind of strong, but Sean figures he’s brought a lot of this on himself, so he can’t really blame William for it. “Your voice is weak in the third song. Max’s tricks make it less so, but you need to redo it or scrap it. Two of the songs you’ve picked are ones you’ve never sung live, and they’re not going to translate well, even with a soulful young man and his guitar. At best they’re coffee shop material. At worst they’re filler. I don’t know if you and Max chose them, or if they’re ones you chose yourself. I assume Max had a hand in it, because he’s playing around with the production. Either he wanted to have a little fun with them, or he just didn’t want to tell you the truth. I’ll go with option number one, because Max tells everyone the truth about shit like that. The fifth song is incredible, and you should close with it when you tour.” He stops and looks at William, wondering if he’s gone too far. Instead William’s looking right back at him and smiling. Sean’s brow furrows. “What?”

“You’re telling me the truth.”

“Yes?” Sean shakes his head in confusion. “You asked me to.”

“Yeah, but no one ever does. They tell you what they think you want to hear. They blow smoke up your ass.”

“I keep telling people I’m not into the kinky stuff.” 

William laughs, and Sean wants to beat his head against a wall, because all he _really_ wants is to pin William down to the floor and blow him again. “Any other notes?”

“Yes and no,” Sean says with a shrug. “Some of the things are related to what I already mentioned. Depending on what you do with those, I might or might not have some.”

“Fair.” William glances around the apartment. “So. That’s out of the way.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like it. I do. It’s amazing, especially for a first album, but it also sounds like a first album.”

“I know what you meant.” William brings his gaze back to Sean. “We should talk about the other thing.”

“See, I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. Regardless of whether or not doing what I did was something you wanted or not, it was the wrong thing to do. You are, in essence, my employee. I’m in a position of authority over you, or at least I was when it happened, and in the eyes of the law...”

“I was in the club with a fake ID.” William shrugs. “As far as you knew, I was eighteen.”

“No one would believe you’re eighteen.”

“People will believe a lot of things if they want to badly enough.” William tilts his head. “That goes both ways though. Either you want to feel guilty, you think you should feel guilty, or someone made you feel guilty.”

“You’re not listening. I am your _boss_. You answer to me.”

“Danielle.”

“Yes,” Sean snaps in frustration. “Danielle because I stepped the fuck down so that I didn’t compromise the company, because it means everything to me, and I’m not about to let the fact that I can’t control my dick ruin what I’ve worked so hard for.”

“What exactly do you think it is I’m going to do, Sean? Run to the police and tell them I was in a club illegally and while I was there I let some guy blow me in the bathroom and, whoops, it was my boss?” He huffs indignantly. “I didn’t just have myself emancipated so that I didn’t have to have my parents’ permission to do things. I did it because I wanted to make my own decisions. It’s my life. I should get to choose how I live it.”

“You’re still a minor.”

“For six more months, and I’m not sure who you think is going to run to CPS and turn you in. And who would fucking care if they did? No, officer. Mr. Van Vleet didn’t coerce me. I went willingly into the bathroom with him. No, I didn’t feel like I was pressured in any way. In fact, we didn’t talk at all. Oh, no. He didn’t force me to do something untoward. He did it all. He sank down on his knees and sucked me off until my knees were weak, he sucked my come down his throat like he was dying for it. The only thing he did that upset me, officer, is the fucker left before I could go down on him.”

Sean closes his eyes and tries not to groan, but a low rumble lingers in his throat. His dick is aching in his jeans, and he shakes his head. “We’re not doing this.”

William glances down at Sean’s crotch and then back up at him. His gaze is the same shut down one from the club. “Fine.” He stands up and the smile he gives Sean is more of a pained sneer. “Thanks for your input on the album. I’ll keep your suggestions in mind, Mr. Van Vleet. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

He starts for the door and it takes Sean all of a second to get to his feet and follow him, grabbing him and slamming him against the wall. William hits the rickety table and it crashes to the floor, but Sean doesn’t care because he’s kissing William, body pressed against his. William moans low in his throat, and Sean deepens the kiss, sliding one hand around William’s waist and the other to the back of his neck to hold him as close as he can. 

“Fuck. Fuck, William.” He presses closer, getting a knee between both of William’s legs. His dick is screaming at him but he actually manages to just keep kissing William without going too far. That lasts until William thrusts against his thigh, and then Sean has to reach for William’s fly, undoing it as quickly as he can with one hand. “Can’t get this out of my head.” He kisses him again, hard and bruising, feeling his teeth cut the inside of his lip. He goes down on his knees again, shoving William’s jeans and boxer-briefs down his thighs. He takes the time to lean in and nuzzle him, breathing the hot smell of him for a long moment before licking the head, tasting the sticky pre-come as he slides his tongue over the slit. 

William’s head falls back with a soft thump and Sean takes him deep. He holds onto William as he moves his head, sliding William to the back of his throat with every pull on his hips. William’s hand rakes through Sean’s hair, short nails scratching at his scalp. He moans around William’s dick and draws him deep, his jaw spread wide. 

“God, your fucking...fuck, your mouth.” William’s voice is husky. “Sean. Jesus.” His hands slide through Sean’s hair and he curves them around the back of Sean’s head, pulling him closer as he thrusts forward. Sean gasps at the first thrust and his throat constricts, the firm sensation of William’s dick pressing too far, too deep. Sean digs his fingernails into William’s hips and William jerks forward again.

Sean’s prepared this time, relaxing his throat as William goes deeper. William doesn’t release his grip on Sean’s head and his thrusts get harder, faster. Sean rubs his palms against William’s hips and thighs, feeling the rough silkiness of hair, the muscles tensing beneath William’s skin. 

His whole body goes rigid under Sean’s touch and Sean moans softly as the hot rush of William’s come fill his mouth. He sucks him down until William rises up on his toes, his breath shuddering out of him. “St-stop. Stop. God, stop. Please.”

Sean pulls back, licking his lips as he looks up at William. His mouth feels swollen and hot, his throat thick. His cock aches inside his jeans, and all he wants is for William to drop to the floor and jerk him off. Or to stay standing, looking down at him and watching while Sean jerks for him. “Fuck, your _cock_.” He leans in and nuzzles it, biting gently at the loose skin above his balls. “Fuck, William.”

“W-we should. Yes.” He strokes the back of Sean’s head with his hand and then runs his nails sharply through his hair. “Soon.” He fists a handful of Sean’s hair and forces him to look up at him. “Now.”

“Fuck. Have you...have you ever...?” Sean forces himself to his feet, groaning as his jeans rub against his erection. He pushes against William again, kissing him as he grinds his dick against William’s thigh. 

“Not...not quite. Some. Oh, god.” William’s thigh is hard and tight between Sean’s legs. “Want it.”

Sean has as much self control as the next guy, but right now the next guy is William, so he grabs William’s hand and leads him to the bedroom, not out of any sense of romance or decorum, but because he needs to be inside William, and the supplies for making that happen are in there. When he turns around, William’s holding his jeans up with his free hand and not quite laughing at Sean. “Laughing at me isn’t nice.”

“You could have let me taken my pants off.”

Sean tugs William against him and guides him down onto the bed, laying him back and grabbing William’s jeans, pushing them down his thighs while he kisses him, eventually getting a knee on the bed between William’s legs as William’s shoes hit the floor and he wriggles beneath Sean to get his jeans off his legs. “Rather be efficient. Multitask.” He nuzzles William’s jaw and then his neck, letting his short beard scrape against William’s skin. 

“O-oh. Yes.” William tilts his head back more, giving Sean more access, and Sean licks and sucks and bites the skin. He teases it between his teeth until William hisses, and then he sucks on the tender red skin, feeling the pulse of blood against his tongue. “S-sean. Fuck.”

“Right,” Sean growls, his voice rough. He pulls back, kneeling over William as he tugs his shirt over his head. William watches until Sean tosses it aside, and then pulls his own shirt off. He’s thin and pale and Sean wants to rub all over him, feeling William shiver from the brush of Sean’s chest hair against his nipples. He shakes his head and moves back further, standing at the foot of the bed.

William ducks his head as Sean stares at him, raking his gaze along his body. He’s beautiful. “What?”

“Gorgeous,” Sean says and undoes his jeans. “Turn over. Hands and knees.”

Licking his lips, William shakes his head and watches as Sean pushes his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His cock is flushed and hard, reminding him that sucking William was _nothing_ like Sean remembered and he’d been shorting himself in that department when he was busy jerking off. Sean wraps a hand around his dick and squeezes it tightly, backing himself away from the edge. 

“Turn over, William.”

He licks his lips again and then does, turning over and shifting on the bed, grabbing one of Sean’s pillows and burying his face in it. Sean runs a hand up the back of William’s thigh and over his ass, sliding it along William’s spine. William shivers beneath his touch, so Sean leans in and kisses between his shoulder blades. He opens the drawer beside the bed and digs out the lube and condoms beneath that. William’s head is turned and he’s watching Sean, reaching out as Sean straightens up to stroke long, calloused fingers against the head of Sean’s dick.

Sean’s knees give a little and he groans, thrusting into William’s touch. “D-do that, and I’m not going to last long enough to fuck you.”

William makes a little noise and pulls his hand away, tucking it under the pillow. Sean slides his hand down William’s spine again, then traces his finger along the crack of his ass. William’s whole body goes taut and his breath hitches. Sean moves back down to the end of the bed and opens the lube, slicking up his fingers and rubbing them lightly over William’s opening. 

He reaches down with his other hand, squeezing his dick hard. If this actually _is_ William’s first time, he’s going to have to take it slow, work him up to taking Sean’s cock. William pushes back against Sean’s fingers even though Sean’s just rubbing. He squeezes his dick again as hard as he can stand it and then grabs the lube again. “Easy. Gonna go slow.”

“Don’t want slow.” William’s voice is muffled by the pillow, so Sean could ignore him if he wanted, but instead he leans in and kisses the curve of William’s ass, letting lube slide down the crack and all over his fingers. He spreads it around on William’s opening some more and then slowly presses his pinkie inside him. William tenses up, his whole body constricting around Sean’s finger.

“Yeah, we’ll take it slow.” 

He waits for William to relax, stroking his back and nuzzling his skin. William eventually unclenches and Sean waits a few more beats before pressing his finger deeper, getting it all the way inside him. William’s breathing hard and Sean can see his muscles quivering under his skin. It’s gorgeous and Sean reaches down and squeezes his balls, trying to get himself under control. It’s not really working, because his cock is ready to be inside William, but he has to try. William’s taking his pinkie easily now, moaning raw and rough when Sean eases it out.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He rubs his pointer finger against the red skin, feeling the bumps and ridges with his fingertip before pressing against it. William’s breath catches and then shudders out, and Sean pushes in with the movement. 

“O-oh, god.” William’s shaking and Sean’s barely to his knuckle. “F-fuck.”

“It’s okay. Easy. Relax.” Sean stills, his other hand rubbing the base of William’s spine. “You’re so fucking tight. So hot. Feel so good. Going fucking crazy here, wanting my dick inside you so much.”

“W-want...w-want that t-too.” His body is slick with sweat, his back arching when Sean presses his finger a little deeper. “G-god.”

“It’s okay. You’re doing amazing. Taking me so good.”

“L-liar. Bare...barely taking anything.”

“We’ll get there.” Sean laughs softly and bites William’s ass as he thrusts his finger all the way in. “Assuming I last that long.”

William moans and thrusts back against Sean’s finger. Sean thrusts it inside him, keeping up a rhythm that makes William make a low noise in his throat. Sean’s dick feels like it weighs a ton and he’s lightheaded as he works a second finger inside William, listening to the gasps William’s making. He fucks his fingers inside William, pushing them deep and then spreading them. He presses a third finger against William’s skin and William whimpers, thrusting back hard. “Please. Fuck, Sean. Please.” His voice is raw and desperate, and Sean’s dick jerks hard as William begs.

“Yeah. Yeah. H-hang on. Just...” He eases his fingers out of William, his cock jerking again as William groans and shudders. He wipes his lube-slick fingers on the bed and fumbles the condom open, sliding it onto his aching dick before stroking lube onto it. He has to squeeze every muscle to keep from losing it at the feel of his hand on his dick, but it’s worth it to push against William’s body and feel it open to the pressure, tight and hot as Sean works his way deep.

“O-oh. Oh. Oh.” William’s voice breaks as Sean buries himself inside William. Taking a few deep breaths, Sean finally pulls back and then thrusts in again. This time William just makes a noise, low and sweet, and Sean forgets about slow and careful. He curves his hands around William’s hips and finds his rhythm, rolling his hips forward. William’s body shakes with his stuttered breathing, and Sean has to fight his own gasps to speak.

“It’s okay. God. You’re...fuck, William. So t-tight. So...fuck.” He runs one hand up William’s back and curves it around the nape of William’s neck. He squeezes just enough to make William’s hips jerk, and suddenly they’re moving together. Sean moan echoes William’s and he lays against William’s back, moving his hand from William’s neck to wrap around his chest, and the other to William’s dick, already hard again. “Y-yeah. Yes. F-fuck.” 

“S-s-s-se-sean. Oh, god. O-oh. I c-can’t. Too...god, please.” He comes in Sean’s hand and it’s enough to tip Sean over the edge. He thrusts deep, hips pushing forward in sharp little jerks. He doesn’t move after he comes other than the sudden shocks of breath that seem to wrack his chest. He turns his head to kiss William’s back and causes him to shudder again as Sean’s beard scrapes against his skin. William whimpers and Sean just breaths in the heat of William’s sweat. 

Sean doesn’t move for a long time, until he can feel his cock twitch and knows he needs to pull out. He whispers against William’s skin. “Going to move, pull out. It’s going to feel weird. Might hurt a little.”

William nods, and Sean sees him clenching his hands, making fists in the comforter. He wraps his hand around the base of his dick, holding the condom against his skin as he pulls back. William makes a noise and buries his head against the pillow, between his hands. Sean disposes of the condom as quickly as he can and the comes back to the bed, lying down and easing William onto his side against him, wrapping his arms around him. 

“You’re okay.” It’s a statement more than a question, but William nods anyway. Sean rests his head on William’s shoulder, breathing against his neck. “Well, it was more than okay.”

That earns Sean a soft laugh. “My ego thanks you for the clarification.” The words are rough, William’s voice hoarse. 

“You want something to drink? Er...no. Forget I asked that. Everything I have is disgusting. You need a drink though. I don’t think whiskey’s going to cut it. We could go out?”

“Not yet.” William’s eyes are closed when Sean looks at him, his breathing evening out, though his whole body still jerks with an occasional breath. “Not just yet.”

Sean nods and closes his eyes too, his hand draped over William’s hip, fingers light against his stomach. “Yeah. Okay. Not just yet.”

**

Sean wakes up alone which surprises him. He considers that he might have been dreaming, but there’s definitely a wet spot on the bed when he sits up, and he generally just gets his stomach and hand when he’s alone. 

Tugging on a pair of boxers, he goes into the living room. It’s empty too, but the table by the door is back on four legs, even if Sean’s not sure the legs are actually attached or if it’s a precarious balancing act. His keys appear to be missing, so they either fell into the heating grate – again, one of the giant rats from the basement carried them off, or William stole his car.

He’s not sure which option is preferable. He knows where William works, but he knows where the rats live. He scrubs his face with his hands and blows out a breath before heading to the bathroom. He should call Max to further detail his adventures in fucking up, but he’s not actually ready for a lecture. He flops on the couch instead and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “Just so you know, assholes, rats can’t drive.”

The front door opens as he’s talking. “Haven’t you ever read Stuart Little?” William asks. “Though I guess he was a mouse.”

Sean pushes himself up on his feet and bends his head over the back of the couch. William’s upside-down, but he definitely has coffee. “You stole my car.”

“I borrowed your car. And only because you weren’t lying. Your water is disgusting and you have absolutely nothing edible.”

“Technically the cheese is edible.”

“No. It’s past that point. It’s undiluted penicillin. I suspect you keep it around for surprise STDs.”

“Pretty sure that’s redundant.” He crooks a finger at him. “Come here and give me one of those.”

“Wow.” William smiles and drops Sean’s keys on the table, which promptly falls over. He stifles a laugh and heads to the couch. “You’d better cool it with the sweet talk. Might go to my head.” He sits down next to Sean and hands him a coffee and a bag.

Sean looks inside and groans. “Is this what I think it is? Still warm?”

“Shut up and eat.” William takes his own cup out of the holder and leans against the arm of the couch, taking a quick sip. 

Sean takes a bite of his chocolate croissant, letting it melt in his mouth as crumbs flake off into his beard. He chases the bite with coffee and sighs in contentment. William’s still smiling, so Sean sets his coffee down and reaches over, tracing the curve of William’s lower lip. “You feel okay?”

He shrugs. “I guess? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel like.”

“A little sore. A little stiff. Like I’ve ruined you for other men.”

William chokes on his drink as he laughs. “Well, in that case, yes. You’ve totally hit the nail on the head.”

Sean licks his lips and takes another bite of his croissant, then runs his hand over his mouth and chin. “How sore?”

William draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “In school during gym they told us to work through the pain.”

“Very smart. Gym teachers.”

“Of course, I should probably go see Max to work on your notes.”

“Max can wait.” Sean takes William’s cup from him and sets it on the coffee table beside his own. “But if you want to talk about my notes, we can do that at the same time.”

“And then I won’t be able to concentrate at all in the studio.”

Sean leans in and nuzzles William’s neck. “Better talk about something else then.”

William closes his eyes and lets his head fall back to give Sean better access. “Or not...not talk at all.”

Sean laugh against William’s throat. “I don’t know. I like it when you talk for me. Say my name.” He nips at the skin and sucks on it.

“S-Sean.”

“Yeah,” Sean groans. “Like that.”

**

Sean gets a call from Max that night about his notes. William left after the second round in Sean’s bed, citing actually having to work on Sean’s comments on the album. Sean offers to not be distracting, but William gives him a look of complete and utter disbelief. Sean gives him that and lets him go, slightly awkwardly since Sean is still lying in the bed completely naked.

Max’s call consists mainly of Max arguing with Sean’s notes, even though Sean can tell it’s mostly posturing. They both know Max gets caught up in the mechanics of the sound and sometimes loses what’s best for the song. Sean also tells Max the same things he told William, not exactly sure how he’ll pass it off when William comes in with the exact same notes. He could lie and say it was via email, but Max would want to know why Sean didn’t just copy it to him. Max can be annoyingly logical when Sean is trying to hide things from him.

“You should just come into the studio,” Max sighs. “We can hash all this out in person, which is the way we work best. Beckett’s not here. You have the all-clear.”

“I don’t know. It might be weird.”

“You still work here. So get your ass in the studio.”

“Fine.” Sean sighs and gets off the couch, heading toward the bedroom. “I have to get dressed.”

“If you’re talking to me while you’re naked again...”

“I’m not naked, fucker.”

“You were that one time.”

“I was also stoned as fuck.”

Max snorts. “How do I know you’re not stoned right now?”

“Why are we friends, Steger? Why do I do this to myself?”

“You love me. Now get your pants on and your ass over here.” Max hangs up on him, and Sean tosses his phone on the bed, digging clean clothes out of the pile on his floor. He’s not actually sure he wants to go to the studio since it feels like rubbing salt into a still fresh wound, but if he doesn’t he’ll never hear the end of it from Max.

He parks in his usual spot and jogs to the door. No one’s in the office so he goes straight back to the production room. Max is at the board listening to something on the headphones. Sean sits on the chair next to him and pushes one of the levers up. Max jerks back and smacks Sean on the arm. “You’re such a dick.”

“You know it.”

Max takes off the headphones and unplugs them. “I’m going to make you put your notes to work. Figured I’d work with you on them first before I called Beckett in. I figured it was best if you two didn’t run into each other.”

“Probably best.” He closes his eyes and leans back in the chair. “Did you give him my notes?”

“Yeah. He seemed pretty amenable to them. He’s going to come in tomorrow.”

“Good. Good.”

Max turns his chair and looks at Sean, his eyes sharp. “Goddamn it, Van Vleet. You did it _again_ , didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. Wait. Do what?”

“You did. Jesus, Sean. What part of losing your job at your own damn studio didn’t sink into your head?”

Sean can feel his shoulders hunch. “It’s not like that.”

“It sure fucking _looks_ like that. You’re going to lose everything that matters to you just to fuck some kid.”

“I don’t think you get to call him a kid.”

Max slams his hand onto the mixing board. “That’s not the goddamned point!” 

“Don’t fucking lecture me!” Sean forces himself to take a deep breath and stop yelling. “We talked. It’s okay.”

“Yeah? What’d you talk about? Did you talk about the fact that he’s underage? Did you talk about being his boss?”

“We talked about...” Sean breaks off and shakes his head sharply. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Bullshit. This was _ours_ , Sean.”

“It still is.”

“Until you get sent to jail for statutory rape!”

“We talked about that.”

“And did he promise not to do that? That’s absolutely believable. He’s not going to fucking tell you that he’s going to sue you for everything you’ve got. We’ve got.” Max gets up, sending his chair skittering across the floor with a kick. “What do you think, Sean? That you’re a couple? That he’s your boyfriend?”

“I think he’s not going to cry rape. I think he’s a smart, nice guy who is old enough to make his own decisions, which is one of the reasons we _signed_ him.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Max walks away from the board and kicks his chair again. “I just hope he’s a damn good fuck, Sean, because he’s already cost you a lot, and he’s going to cost you a hell of a lot more before you’re done.”

“Fuck you.” Sean gets up and takes a few steps away from Max to keep himself calm. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you barely know him. I know you’re giving up everything you’ve worked so damn hard for just for him.”

“It’s still my business.”

“Not if you keep fucking up, fucking him.”

“I’m leaving.” Sean points at Max. “You know music. You don’t know shit about this.” Sean strides out of the studio, running into Tom and Danielle coming in with sandwiches. Danielle starts to say something, but Tom stops her with a hand on her arm and a single shake of his head.

Handing her his bag, Tom nods toward the door, heading outside. Sean follows, very carefully not slamming the door behind him.

“Don’t start.”

Tom holds up both hands in surrender. “If Danielle thinks we’re just talking she won’t worry about things too much.”

“Except without you to stop her, she’s going to go straight to Max.”

“She’s going to talk to Max regardless. So you talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m destroying the world as we know it, because William and I...”

“Dude, do not even try to tell me you’re destroying the universe with your dick. I’ve seen your dick. It’s not that powerful.”

“Just the world. And fuck you.” Sean moves away from him and kicks the side of the building. Tom follows with an annoying sense of calm that makes Sean want to punch him.

“So you head questionably inappropriate touching again?”

“We had sex.”

“And he is...”

“What?”

Tom raises an eyebrow and shrugs eloquently. “Fifteen?”

“What? Fuck, no. Jesus. He’s...he’ll be seventeen in six months.”

“Ah. So he’s _sixteen_.”

“And a half.”

Tom looks at the ground and takes several breaths. He’s still looking at his shoes when he starts to speak. “Sean...”

“I like this kid, Tom.” He works hard to keep his voice even. “A lot. There’s just...I’m not stupid. I’ve worked so hard for all of this. I wouldn’t risk it all for nothing.”

“You barely know him.”

“I _know_ that. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes a lot of sense. We all have eyes. We all see him. But we’re worried about what you’re _not_ seeing.”

“None of you know him any better than I do, so why are all of you convinced that Max is right?”

“We aren’t. But we’d rather err on the side of caution and the lack of litigation.”

“Fuck this.” Sean throws up his hands. “And fuck you guys. Tell Danielle I’ll email her my fucking resignation.” 

Tom sighs. “Look, let’s go for a walk, okay? Maybe we can figure this out.”

Sean falls in step with him, though he has no intention of talking. He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and ignores Tom walking silently beside him.

“So Beckett feels the same way?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. We didn’t actually have a detailed conversation about our feelings.”

“Mouths were otherwise engaged?”

“You wouldn’t be that hard to kill, you know.”

“I don’t know. I’m scrappy.”

Sean scratches his head with both hands, leaving his hair a bigger mess than it started. “He probably just wanted to get laid.”

“You could ask him.”

“I’m not sure I want to do that.” Sean kicks the curb. “What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s nothing special. Just a kid with a voice, a guitar, and too many goddamn feelings just like every other group of kids I’ve ever signed.”

“Maybe it’s because he isn’t a group of kids.”

Sean scoffs. “So I was destined to fuck the first solo act I signed?”

Tom doesn’t say anything for a long time, his silence speaking volumes. “Maybe you should go visit your nephews for a while. A few days. A week. Maybe a month. Because you are completely losing it.”

“How is that helpful?”

“Get away from temptation. See if it’s still there when you get back. Right now it’s fresh and on your mind.”

“I avoided him after I stepped down.” 

“You hadn’t slept together then. It’s different now. Also it’ll give Max a chance to calm down.”

“But what if William...”

“Then you’ll figure it out when you get back.”

Sean hunches his shoulders and walks a little further before speaking again. “You’ll talk to Danielle and Max?”

“I will soothe troubled waters like I’m Jesus.”

“Dude, surely it’s too early for you to be this stoned.”

“Nope. Never too early.”

** 

Sean lasts two days with his nephews before he checks his phone. There are several texts and emails from Danielle, and a very telling silence from Max. Nothing from Tom, which isn’t surprising. There’s one from a number he doesn’t recognize that he saves for last. He reads it twice before he realizes it’s from William.

“Stole your # from Max.”

Sean gets up off the bed and shuts the door to the guest bedroom. He doesn’t look at the time stamp on the text, just replies. “Why?”

The reply comes back just a few minutes later. “You left. Wanted 2 b sure you were ok.”

“Yeah. Am ok. Family time. Me & my nephews.”

“Working on notes w Max. Any idea why I got a lecture?”

“I maybe mentioned what happened w us.”

“And what did happen? Exactly?”

“You want details?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“You don’t remember?” Horror slams into Sean’s chest and the urge to throw up gags him. He’s glad they’re texting and not talking as he chokes down bile. 

“Know what happened. Just not why it ran you out of town.”

“Am visiting nephews.”

“Convenient timing. You could have just said we weren’t doing that anymore.”

“What did Max say 2 you?”

“You’re bad news. Dangerous. Too good for me. Going 2 distract me from my career. Basically keep my hands off.”

“Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause after Sean’s text and he’s not exactly sure how to interpret it, but it becomes clear when William finally responds. “Goodnight.”

Fuck. Sean texts him, not sure how serious he is about his goodbye. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“After 7. Redoing a song for the 4th track.”

“Good. That’s a good decision.”

“Was your decision.”

“I’m very smart. Also pretty sure that if you disagreed with me you wouldn’t be changing anything.”

“Do what I’m told occasionally.”

Sean closes his eyes at that, taking a deep breath before he replies. “Was that deliberate?”

“Night Sean.”

Sean turns off his phone and closes his eyes again. He is absolutely not going to jerk off in his sister’s guestroom where his parents sleep when they visit. That thought makes his erection flag until Sean imagines William lying on his bed and jerking off thinking about Sean.

“Fuck.” He shoves off the bed and slips through the hallway to the bathroom. He manages to keep away from any family members, which is a minor miracle. He locks the door behind him and leans against it, wondering exactly which of them is the teenager in this scenario.

**

He ends up not calling the next day because Stacy has to take Emmet to the ER when he falls off one of the climbing toys at the local park. Sean ends up in charge of the baby who decides on the way home to spit up all over Sean and then scream and cry at an ear-splitting level for the next five hours solid, with only the bare minimum of breaks for air.

Sean does manage a text to William saying that something came up, but he doesn’t get a chance to check his phone again until after midnight when Stacy and Emmet get home and wake him from where he’s fallen asleep on the couch with the baby on his chest.

Sean blinks blearily at Stacy as she adjusts her grip on Emmet, who’s asleep in her arms. “How’s the little man?”

“Okay. Most of it was waiting around for test results. They said he had a concussion and watched him for the required amount of time. He’s got a bump the size of an ostrich egg though, and it’s going to be tender for a while. I give him twelve hours to forget it’s there and bump it on something.”

“Let me put this one down and I’ll come and get Emmet.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Sit.”

“If I sit, I’ll fall asleep. Just hurry. After this long, he weighs a ton.”

Sean carries the baby to the boys’ room and settles him into the crib before coming back and taking Emmet out of Stacy’s arms. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of this.”

“Never have kids,” Stacy sighs, rubbing her arms and the creases left by Emmet’s hair and clothes. “They’re exhausting.”

“Whatever. You love them.” 

“Shut up.”

Sean kisses her temple. “Bed.”

“Fine. Have them. Don’t heed my advice.”

“ _Bed_.”

“Okay, okay.” She heads down the hall with Sean following until he reaches the kids’ room. The baby is snuffling in his crib, sounding slightly congested from all his earlier screaming. Emmet is heavy with sleep in Sean’s arms, and he eases him onto his toddler bed. Sean adjusts the pillow so it doesn’t rub the bump on Emmet’s head before kissing him goodnight on the forehead.

Emmet swats blindly, missing Sean by a good distance. “Tickles, Unca Sean.” He makes Sean’s name sound more like ‘sawn’, and Sean smiles at him in the glow of the hallway light. 

“Go back to sleep, buddy. You can tell me all about your adventure tomorrow.”

“Nigh-night.” Emmet turns and sinks back into sleep easily.

Sean checks on Stacy and she’s already passed out on the bed, fully clothed. Sean works her tennis shoes off her feet and tugs a blanket over her. Her husband, Mike, is off on a business trip so he won’t miss his half of the bed, so Sean sits next to Stacy and leans against the headboard, ready to bolt to the kids’ room if he hears any noise.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his emails first, typing out responses to Danielle’s questions, knowing most of what she’s asking is for Max. He answers them as if he’s not aware of it, though he deliberately doesn’t give Max the answers Sean knows he wants.

There’s an email from Sean’s work account that raises his eyebrows. He’s going to have to tell Danielle that his accounts been hacked so all of theirs might have been too. He opens the email, curious as to whether someone’s asking all their clients about enlarged penises or if it’s just a link with a ridiculously non-Sean enticement to click.

It ends up being neither. It’s a slice of a picture, most likely one of Tom’s, of a staircase, colors washed out with blue sitting in a solid square of white. Words are mocked up on the white, cut out of magazines like a ransom note. ‘Remember Maine’ comes across like a command rather than a name, some sort of musical battle cry that doesn’t fit the sound at all, and ‘The Last Place You Look’ sounds like a threat it the multiple typefaces stretching across the entire square.

There are several lines of space after the photo before there’s a comment from Tom. _probably not the final look_

Sean laughs quietly and looks at the mock album cover, wondering what William felt like when he saw it. Sean remembers the first time he saw Empires Records on the office door for the first time; all of the money and hard work condensed into two little words that hit him like a thunderbolt.

There’s a file attached to the mail as well and Sean clicks on it, waiting for it to load. It opens and he presses play. It’s a song he hasn’t heard before, and William’s raw, untouched vocals send a frisson of something down Sean’s spine. His voice is still young, but it’s emotional and real. Sean closes his eyes and just listens. He can hear the places Max will come in and clean things up, but this is why Sean does what he does. 

Did what he did.

Sean stops the song and sends emails it out to some people he knows. It’s almost summer, and that means tours, which means it’s time for Sean to get back to work. He scrolls through his texts and finds William’s response from earlier, a simple _ok. Talk later?_. He lets his head fall back and breathes deeply for a moment before replying.

_know schools out next week. Tell max you need 2 b done by then. Working on shows for you._

After that he texts Tom, reminding him that William’s going to need back-up when he’s on the road, which should hopefully get Sean’s message across. If not, the list of dates and venues he plans on sending Danielle the next day should do it.

Sean silences his phone and pushes it back into his pocket before shifting down onto the mattress and closing his eyes. A yawn overtakes him, and sleepiness hits him in the face with a 2×4 and he drifts off, hoping that if something goes wrong, the kids will scream loud enough to wake him.

**

“Who the fuck do you think I am, the miracle worker?”

“Don't yell.”

“I'll yell if I want to yell. You want me to have a fucking pressing ready in a week?”

“Technically two. Hi, Max.”

“Hi? Hi? That's what you've got for me?”

“Nice to hear from you?”

“I have a lot of heavy things I can murder you with.”

“None that you'd willingly get blood on. Also, I'm beginning to think you need some anger management. Maybe I'll have Danielle see about bringing someone in.”

“Fuck you.” Max takes a deep breath. “I'm still pissed off at you and think you're an idiot.”

“And I still disagree.” Sean hasn't heard from William since his text, so it may be a moot point. “Can you do it? It doesn't have to be the whole jewel case and shit. Xerox copies of a sleeve and a burned disk.”

“No. If we're doing this, we're doing it right. I'll call in some favors from Ryan. He's still working at the copy place, so he can make the artwork for us. I've got shitloads of empty jewel cases. You're sticking labels on the disks though, so stop babysitting and get back here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm leaving tonight. How much work do you have to do on the album?”

“We're in post now. Beckett's nosy and a perfectionist.”

“No wonder you two get along.”

“You're not touring with him.”

Sean sighs. “No, Mom. I'm not touring with him. Tom is going to act as manager and Beckett talked about Scimeca on drums. As long as Nick's okay being paid in Taco Bell, that should be fine.” He waits through Max's noises of agreement and then his intercom call to Tom or Danielle to suggest Taco Bell for lunch. “Have you seen William today? Has he said anything?”

“He's excited. I mean, it's going to really depend on who and where you hook him up, but I think he's still young enough to think touring is glamorous.”

“You're his age, Max.”

“Older by two months, and I have the sense not to fuck you.”

“You're also straight.”

“Well, even if I weren't.”

“I'll be home tonight. Buy the kid lunch too, okay?”

“You're paying me back.”

“Yes, Max. Goodbye, Max.” Sean hangs up and, for the first time since he left, he feels like he can breathe. Fighting with Max is like fighting with a sibling, maybe even a twin. A shorter, more annoying, less attractive, genius twin.

“So you're abandoning me, is that it?” Stacy's leaning against the door jamb with her arms crossed against her chest, but smiling at him.

“Your husband's coming home today. Don't want him to get suspicious, especially since the kids look so much like me.”

“Ugh. I hate it so much when you take it to a weird place.”

“It's a skill I have and must use to the fullest extent.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Can I stay through dinner?”

“I guess, but you'll have to do the dishes.”

“Slave driver.” He waggles his eyebrows at her. “You're going to have to crack the whip.”

“Weird place, Sean. _Weird place_.”

**

There's actually a parking spot less than two blocks from Sean's apartment, so he pulls in and counts it as a good omen. He takes the stairs to his apartment two at a time, coming out of the stairwell and stopping dead at the sight of a huddled shadow in front of his door.

Slowing his walk, he can tell the second William hears him by the shift in his body. “Hey.”

“Hi.” William gets off the floor with more grace than someone with the legs of a baby giraffe should. “I heard Max tell Tom you were coming home tonight.”

“Yeah. Lot's of work to do.”

“I thought I'd come by and say hi. Since, well, every one you know seems to think that we shouldn't run into each other because I might trip and fall and end up with your dick in my ass.”

“Man, is everyone into kinky sex?” Sean slings his bag more firmly on his shoulder and fits his key in the lock. “Max says things are going well.” He holds the door open and, after a slight pause, William walks inside. Sean follows him, tossing his bag on the floor.

William nods. “Yeah. He seems really happy with the changes.”

“Are you?”

“Me? Yeah. I never brought up 'Forever Ended Today' because I figured you guys would balk at the length.”

“It's a good song.”

“Thanks.”

There's an awkward pause and then Sean gestures toward the kitchen. “I'd offer you something, but I'm afraid I have even less than normal. I doubt my water's improved over the last couple weeks.” Sean grabs the bag off the floor and tosses it toward his bedroom. “The rats apparently didn't clean while I was out.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Sean turns, surprised by the question, even though he knows he really shouldn't be. “I'm pretty sure what I want and what I should do don't line up in this scenario.”

“Do they have to?” William looks younger than normal, which Sean wouldn't have believed possible. “I mean...” He shrugs. “Never mind. I get it.”

“I don't think you do.”

“I'm a minor and your friends are freaking out, reminding you how dangerous that is. It's just supposed to be about the music.” William shrugs and smiles at Sean, small and sad. “But you've invested money in me, so you'll send me out on tour so I don't take it personally that you're not going to sleep with me again.”

Sean starts to say something and stops. “Okay, that's actually a pretty fair assessment. Kind of dickish when you lay it out like that, but fair.”

“You didn't have to run away. I said I was an adult, and I meant it in all ways, not just so you'd fuck me. You could have just said we needed to stop.”

“Yeah, I know. But saying it wouldn't have stopped me from wanting it, from saying 'fuck it' and sleeping with you again. Good intentions and promises aside. It was about me as much as you.”

“And going away stopped you from wanting it? Me?”

“It stopped me from doing anything about it.”

William nods. “I guess I should go then. Max and I are done, so I won't be in the studio anymore. Nick and Tom and I have rehearsals, so it's safe for you to go back to work.” He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “The first date is here in town. I'd appreciate it if you came to that one.”

“Of course.” Sean blows out a breath and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, unintentionally mimicking William's posture. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

William smiles tightly and something changes in his eyes, making them darken. “All of it? Signing me? Fucking me?”

“No! Not that. Not like that. Just that I let things get out of hand. That I took adva-”

He doesn't get the entire word out before William slaps him solidly across the face. Before Sean can react, William's out the door and the sound of it slamming echoes through the apartment.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck god fucking shit.” Sean turns and kicks the wall, causing several flakes of plaster to fall. “Fuck.”

**

Sean spends the next few days at the office doing his best to ignore Danielle's knowing smile as he moves a few things back in. He also ignores the questioning looks Tom gives him as they go over the itinerary and details for the tour.

“I've done this before, Sean.”

“He hasn't.”

“But _I_ have, which is why you're sending me along.” Tom takes a drink from the bottle in his hand. “Don't worry. I'm not going to let anything happen to the meal ticket.”

“That's not...” Sean sighs and flips Tom off. “It's his first tour.”

“And all the planning in the world isn't going to stop something from fucking up. And it's not going to keep him from being a 16-year-old kid in a band.”

“It's not about that.”

“Yes it is.” Tom raises an eyebrow and holds Sean's gaze with a steady one of his own. “Just because you can't doesn't mean you don't want to. And just because you won't doesn't mean he won't. In fact, if he's pissed off at you, he's more likely to.”

“Is this actually supposed to be helping?”

“It's supposed to be explaining that I'll take care of the tour and I'll take care of the talent, but I'm not his boss or his nanny or his conscience.”

“Of course not. Because you're all too fucking busy being _mine_.”

Tom takes another drink. “You obviously need one.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Sean slumps back in his chair and grabs his own beer, draining half of it. “Are you going to actually _encourage_ him? Be his Jiminy Cricket in reverse?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to need to encourage a 16-year-old who is having people throw themselves at him. Pretty sure he’ll figure it all out on his own.”

“I hate you a lot.”

“I know. I know. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” Tom squints at him. “Are you, like, really into this kid? I mean, not just in the ‘you want to bone him’ way, but in the whole hearts and flowers shit? Or is it just the fact that you can’t have him that’s making you all hot for him?”

“I like him. He’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s unaffected.”

“He’s a diva. I know you have a thing for them, since you collected Max at a young and formative age...”

“I don’t want to have sex with Max.”

“My god, I should hope not. Danielle would kill you.” Tom laughs. “The point is that he’s a lot like Max and you seem to gravitate toward the type.”

“He wants to be a musician. He’s willing to work his ass off to do it. That’s what I’m looking for. That’s what this label is all about.”

“I’m not questioning your devotion to the label and the reasons you started it, Sean. I’m questioning why, out of all the guys on the planet, you’re hot for a nasally, too-skinny, gangly kid who looks like he belongs in a Disney channel show instead of performing in clubs.”

“They don’t let people with dicks like his on Disney shows.”

“Please tell me you do not check out the people on Disney shows, or we’re looking at you having a serious problem, Sean.”

“I don’t _know_ , okay? I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why it is. I don’t know why I can’t get him out of my head. I know it’s stupid. I know it’s every bad idea wrapped up in a pretty bow. I _know_ it. Don’t you think that, given a fucking choice, I would choose differently? Why do you feel the way you do about Danielle? Why...why are you looking at me like that?”

Tom’s eyes are wide, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair. “You think you feel about him the way I feel about Danielle?”

“I was using you as an example.”

“You are not in love with this kid.”

“Of course not. Jesus. I just like him. I want to have sex with him. I want to do things that he’s probably never even heard about to his body.”

“That is _way_ too much information.”

“Maybe it’s just sex, you know? But you guys won’t let me find out.”

“Because the sex part is the part that can get you arrested.” Tom doesn’t raise his voice, but Sean still shuts his mouth. “Just wait six months, Sean. Wait six months and then you can bone him all you want. It will still be stupid, but at least it won’t be illegal.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just take him on tour and don’t let _him_ get arrested either.” Sean reaches behind him and grabs a set of keys, tossing them to Tom. “And if he does, you’re not allowed to sell Max’s mom’s van for bail.”

“That’s what merch money is for.”

Sean flips Tom off as he walks out the door, then leans back in the chair, kicking his feet up onto his desk. He finishes the rest of his beer before he opens his phone and thumbs through the contacts to William’s number. Calling or texting him is probably absolutely on the list of things Sean shouldn’t do, but it doesn’t actually stop him. 

“looking 4ward 2 2mrrw nite.”

“you’re still coming?”

“wouldn’t miss it.”

“not going to apologize.”

“don’t expect you to.”

“you’re all being hypocrites by letting me do this and not letting me do that.”

“they’re worried about the legal shit.”

“and no one trusts me enough?”

“i do.”

“no. because if you did you would have taken me 2 bed when u got home the other nite.” 

“i can’t fight all of them.”

“can’t. won’t. doesn’t matter. made a choice. like any adult you get to live w/ it.”

Sean blows out a breath and thumps his head on the back of the seat. Having this discussion again isn’t going to do either of them any good. “will you text me on the tour? let me know how things are going?”

“isn’t that what Tom is 4?”

“don’t just want Tom’s pov. want yours.”

“all the gory details?”

“yes.” Except Sean doesn’t actually want there to be details, gory or otherwise. Which is, like William said, completely hypocritical. “will u?”

“no promises but will try. c u 2mrrw nite.”

Sean tucks his phone away and drops his legs off the desk. There’s a lot to do before tomorrow night, and he might as well put all his frustration to good use and help Tom load the van.

**

William’s the first of three openers for a local band that’s about to take off in the scene, so the crowd isn’t huge when he takes the stage with Tom and Nick. Nick’s got a million friends and Tom’s well known locally because he plays with everyone and he used to have is own band back in the day, so there’s still a decent crowd. It’s amazing to watch the people watching William, because he goes up a skinny, awkward kid, but then he starts performing and becomes something else. 

By the time he’s done, he’s won the crowd over with his voice, his songs, his earnestness, and his absolutely wince-inducing banter. Sean’s going to have to talk to Tom about that. But all in all it’s a good show, and Sean can see in William’s face that he knows it. 

He comes off stage and Sean hands him a bottle of water that he finishes up in two long swallows before he heads out to help Nick and Tom break down. Sean’s too busy staring at his throat to manage much of anything about the show, so it’s not until after when Tom shoves one of Nick’s drums in his hands that Sean manages to move up next to William and talk to him. “You did great.”

“Yeah?” It’s a question, but it’s also an agreement and Sean has to laugh.

“Yeah. Once we get this loaded out, I want you to go out to the merch table. Smile. Sell.”

“Flirt,” Tom says from behind them. “Flirt a lot. Sells shit.”

“That’s what smiling is,” Sean tosses Tom a look over his shoulder.

“No, smiling is smiling. Flirting is smiling and laughing and touching. Talking and being cute. The stuff I suck at.”

Sean hands the drum to Nick in the back of the van, and then takes the guitar case from William’s hand. He ignores the shock that hits him when their hands touch, keeping his gaze on Tom. “You do suck.”

Tom flips him off and grabs William’s arm, spinning him around. He gives him a little push back toward the venue. “Go. Pretend you’re in retail, only sell yourself.”

“Not in the illegal ways,” Nick calls out.

William laughs. “You guys sure? I don’t want you to have to do all the work.”

“Go.” Tom gives him another little shove. “You’re the star, kid. Trust me, all the pretty girls and boys in there want you, not us, taking their money.”

William hurries inside, already smiling. Sean goes back by the door to get one of the amps. Tom comes up beside him and shakes his head. Sean holds up a hand to shut him up and shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“I won’t if you don’t.” Tom shrugs. “That’s the deal. Remember?”

“Can I congratulate him without you barging into the conversation?”

Tom sighs and gives Sean a long-suffering look. “Depends. How did you plan on congratulating him? Because anything you _should_ be doing can be done in front of me. I promise not to say a word. Anything you need privacy for is something that I can’t let happen.”

“Ten minutes.”

“I’m pretty sure you could do a lot of damage in ten minutes.”

“You’re a dick.”

“I’m the dick saving your ass. Now, come on. I want to see the next band, and I can’t do that if I’m out here arguing with you.”

The rest of the load-out is done in silence. Nick doesn’t say anything, and climbs out of the van as quickly as he can when everything’s stored. Tom drives it out of the way of the doors and locks it up, lighting up a cigarette on his way back to where Sean’s standing. Sean’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and his back to the wall, one foot against the brick as he stares up at the sky between the buildings. “Ten minutes, Tom.”

Tom takes a deep drag off the cigarette and holds it for what feels like an eternity before he blows it out and watches it drift upward. “I’m going in to watch the band.” He looks at Sean and shrugs. “You’ll be standing next to me when they start, and you’d better be standing next to me when they finish. Other than that, I imagine I’m going to be looking at the band not at who’s standing beside me. Or who’s off making yet another bad decision that everyone who loves him has warned him not to make.”

“Thank you,” Sean says softly.

“Don’t thank me, because I haven’t done shit. And if you imply that I have or am, in any way, complicit in this, I will cut off your dick and feed it to Max’s dog.”

“Okay. Understood.”

“Because Danielle will do at least that to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. And I don’t want to think about what you and Danielle do when you’re alone.” 

“Well, trust me, I’ve had too much time lately where what you and William did when you were alone was the topic of conversation, so I know how you feel. And also, fuck you, deal with it.” 

Sean claps a hand on Tom’s shoulder and heads inside. “Is this band any good?”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Should I actually listen to them?”

Tom shrugs. “You could, but believe me, they are already way out of your price range.”

Sean leaves Tom to the pit and heads over to check the merch table. William’s got a crowd of pretty young girls around him, and he’s laughing with them, working them. The stack of CDs he started with is much smaller, and the clipboard on the table for email addresses is over half filled in. Not bad for the first night. He might have to talk to Max about a real run if this keeps up. Maybe t-shirts. He waits for William to finish talking to them and walks up. “How much for a CD?”

“You’ve already paid for it.” William doesn’t quite smile, but his attitude is much less chilly than Sean expected. Even in small doses, success has an amazing effect. 

“True. In theory, I think I paid for all of them, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to be paying me back for that much quicker than I anticipated. Do you think you could let Jason watch the booth for a minute?”

William looks over at Jason and shrugs. Sean knows they’re friends, but he doesn’t know Jason all that well, and he’s not sure what exactly ‘friends’ means between the two of them. Jason pushes against the wall behind him and drops his chair down onto all fours. “Don’t worry, Beckett. I will charm the panties off these girls.”

“It’s an all ages show, Jason. Don’t get arrested. Get their money and their email addresses.”

“All right, all right. Can I get their numbers?”

“As long as they’re clear they giving them to _you_.” William reaches over and musses Jason’s hair and looks at Sean. “What’s up?”

“I just want to talk before you get out on the road tonight. Just a few minutes.”

William considers Sean for a long moment before he shrugs. “Sure thing, boss.” Sean grits his teeth before nodding toward the back of the venue, following William toward the band’s dressing room at the back. There are too many people, so Sean catches William’s wrist and steers him toward the back door and the alley. It’s at least ten degrees cooler outside and William shivers now that he’s not coming off the high of the stage. 

Sean walks a few steps away and takes a deep breath before turning around to look at William. “There’s going to be a lot of stuff out there on tour.” He shakes his head as William opens his mouth. “Let me finish, okay?”

William takes a minute to nod, but he does do it eventually. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Sean exhales again and kicks the ground with his toe. “There’s going to be a lot of stuff out there. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Temptations. And that’s what touring is all about in a lot of ways. But it’s also about getting your name out there and being known for your music. Even in an up-and-coming scene like ours, even if you’re the smallest fish in the pond, well...stuff sticks with you. And I know you’re dedicated, and I’m not questioning your judgment. I’m just asking you to be careful.”

“Is that all you’re asking me?”

“Don’t get arrested.”

William huffs a laugh. “Right. I’ll do my best.” He shakes his head and then crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing his hands over his upper arms against the chill. “Is that everything, Mr. Van Vleet?”

“You’re starting to piss me off.”

“Am I?” He doesn’t look in the least bit like he cares. “Oh, sorry. Am I free to go?”

“No,” Sean grits out and grabs William’s shoulders, pushing him back against the brick wall. He catches William’s gasp of surprise with his mouth, holding it between them as he kisses him. When he pulls back, William’s mouth already looks bruised, and he knows he was too rough. “Fuck.”

“Yes.” William leans in and kisses Sean, wrapping his arms around Sean’s waist and bringing their hips together. Sean groans low in his throat and catches the nape of William’s neck in his hand, pressing his fingers hard into the skin. William whimpers and presses closer, thrusting against Sean. 

“Fuck,” Sean breathes against William’s mouth, dropping both hands to William’s ass and boosting him up so he can wrap his legs around Sean’s waist. William’s almost too tall for it to be comfortable, but he tilts his head just right so their mouths meet and Sean can fuck his tongue past William’s lips. He can feel William’s cock hardening and he presses closer until he can’t even feel air between them. The van is less than 100 feet away, and all Sean can think about is breaking in, fucking William on the back seat. He keeps trying to shut out the voices in the back of his mind that tell him this is a bad idea, this is his _worst_ idea, but eventually they get too loud and he pulls back, easing William back to the ground and taking a step back.

William wipes his mouth and then scrubs at it, as if he’s trying to get the taste of Sean off of him. “Are we done?”

“No. Not even close,” Sean can barely breathe. “I’m going to text you while you’re gone. We’re going to get to know each other.”

“We are, are we?” William voice is sharp and sarcastic. “Do I get any say in this, or are you still making my decisions for me?”

“You can choose to text me back or not. I’d like to get to know you.” Sean also sort of wants to punch him, but that’s warring and losing with his desire to fuck him. 

“Or keep tabs on me.”

“I don’t have an ulterior motive to everything I do.”

William actually laughs at him. “You don’t?”

Sean takes a deep breath and another step back. “Have a good tour. Tell Tom I went home. _Please_.”

William’s shoulders are tight and he looks like he’d rather not do Sean any favors at all. “I want this more than you know,” he says softly. “I’m not going to fuck up this tour.”

Sean’s stomach actually bottoms out when William keeps talking. At least if he’d stopped after the first sentence, maybe Sean would have some idea what might happen next. “I know you won’t.” He holds out his hand and William takes it, tentative and suspicious. Sean curves his hands to a night solid grip, and William matches it. “Good luck.”

William nods and shakes his hand then pulls back. “Thank you.”

**

Sean texts Tom as soon as he gets home, then proceeds to get drunk as quickly as he can. He jerks off once he’s got a nice buzz going then keeps drinking until his whole body feels numb. He’s going to regret it in the morning, but he’ll make it into the office if it kills him, which it might. Which would solve his problems. 

Max is there when he gets in, and there’s actually coffee made. “Is that fresh?”

“I finished off your Diet Coke stash.” Max shrugs. “It seemed like the least I could do. Also, Tom said you might need it.” 

“You guys are like a group of old hens. Do you have cameras set up in my house too just so you can keep tabs on me all the time?”

“No, but there’s one in your car.” Max sits down at the table and waves at the other seat. “We need to talk about the show last night, what the revenue was on merch and where we’re going from here.” 

“That’s Danielle’s forte.”

Max has perfected the look he reserves for when he thinks Sean is being an idiot, probably because he uses it so often. “Danielle’s going on the next three dates of the tour. She sent me some notes.”

“Why didn’t she send them to me?”

“She did, but I’ve actually checked your email, unlike you.”

“Do _all_ of you know my passwords?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” Max pulls out one of Sean’s folders, the revenue sheet already inside it. “Tom said they’ve got 100 CDs left. That’s not going to go far if he’s selling at least 50 a night. We’re probably going to have to pay to overnight it, unless someone feels like driving to Ohio. And don’t even think about volunteering.”

“You don’t drive.”

“I know. My folks might pay for shipping. It’s probably going to be cheaper than gas.”

“What if we both went?”

Max starts to say something and then closes his mouth, tilting his head to the side. Sean knows he’s mentally going through the schedule of who’s using the studio. “I can switch a few things around without too much hassle. The actual real print run should be done this afternoon. We can head out tonight.”

“Really?” Sean didn’t actually expect Max to take the suggestion seriously, but he’s not about to argue. “I’d better stock up on Diet Coke then.”

“Pepperoni sticks too. And don’t get the cheap shit like last time.”

“The cheap shit is all we can afford.”

Max gets up and slides the file over to Sean. “The good stuff. You know I’m worth it.”

**

Sean texts William when he knows the show’s over. He’s not sure he’ll get any kind of response, but he’s realized he’s not doing it for William’s sake so much as his own. Besides, even if he’s not deliberately ignoring him, there’s a good chance that William’s off doing things that Sean doesn’t want to think about. Or things he does want to think about, only when he’s the one involved with doing it. He keeps it professional, just asking how the show went and how many CDs they sold, what people asked for beyond that – stickers, shirts, posters. Shirts are in progress, but they can get the other stuff done quickly and haul it out with the CDs. He should send the questions to Tom, but he knows Tom will answer him, and he’d rather see if William will, or if he’ll tell Tom to do it.

He doesn’t get a response by the time he finally falls asleep. He wakes up with a crick in his neck, his body covered in sweat, and more exhausted than when he went to bed. He goes to the bathroom and then flops on the mattress, kicking the covers down to the foot of the bed. He doesn’t have any texts, so he checks his email rather than throwing the phone across the room. He likes to think he’s grown as a person, but the truth is that he can’t afford a new phone.

There are two emails from Max with schedules for the studio and how he’s going to switch them around as well as status on the CD order. Sean skims them and deletes three junk emails. He’s about to turn the screen off when a new email pops up. 

‘S – show went well. Sales were really good. Went through another 50 last night. Tom said you guys had a plan in place for more CDs. I think stickers would be good, though I’m not 100% sure what would be the most effective marketing. I’m better at singing than logistics. - Wm.”

Sean can’t help smiling. Of course, then he feels like an idiot for being so fucking pleased over getting an email. He’s not sure what it is about William that makes him act like someone with their first crush, but apparently Sean’s back in junior high. 

‘W – glad to hear things are going well. Max and I are coming out with more CDs and I’ll see what we can swing otherwise. Hopefully might even have a few shirts as well. I appreciate you keeping track of how we’re doing sales-wise. Makes my job easier. - S.’

He puts his phone away and goes to shower and dress, then checks again. There’s not another email, but there’s a text from Max asking where he is, so he grabs his keys and heads into the office. They head over to the print shop and get their orders going, using Tom’s photo and the name of the band and album they’d had William write out to go on the t-shirts. Ryan looks over the stuff and tweaks the order and quotes them a price roughly a third of what it’s supposed to cost. 

“You sure?” Sean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No one’s here but me. The boss never takes inventory when he is here, which is never. It’s all good.” Ryan shrugs. “Besides, I still owe you for the studio time and the demo shit you guys did for me. Say ‘thank you’, Sean.”

“Thanks, man.” Sean hands over his credit card and tries not to panic as Ryan runs it through. He knows the card’s good, since Max’s parents have amazing credit and Max is on their card, and thus their credit report, and the card is officially in Max’s name. It happens every time they make a big purchase, because he sees purchases in how many CDs they’re going to have to sell to cover the payment.

Max must see it in his face, because he claps a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll buy lunch before we pick up the CDs.”

“Real lunch?”

“Depends on the definition of real lunch, I guess.” Max smiles and adjusts his glasses. “What if I guarantee at least three food groups?”

“Will vegetables be one of them?”

“Dear god, no. What do you take me for?” Max laughs and shakes his head. “C’mon. Pizza and beer. Which I will make you buy.”

“No beer, because then I’ll have to let you drive, and let’s remember what happened the last time I let you do that.”

“You’re the idiot who bought a stick.”

“You’re the idiot who doesn’t know how to drive one.”

“I _thought_ it was in reverse.”

Sean raises his eyes upward and shakes his head. “You’re killing me. I kid you not.”

“Shut up or you’re buying your own lunch. _And_ I’ll order you a fucking salad.”

“Cruelty. This is what I get for keeping you gainfully employed.”

“I came with the studio,” Max gets in the passenger seat and leans over to unlock Sean’s door. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

“Sad but true.” Sean agrees and starts the car. “Sad but true.”

“Shut up and drive to Lou’s.”

“You know, I’m the actual boss. It says so on the business card.”

Max grins at him. “Actually we just put that on there for you. You’re really just a figurehead. Like the Queen.”

“I would not be above pushing you out a moving vehicle, you know.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Max grins even wider. “Well, then you’d definitely be buying lunch.”

**

‘W – attaching pictures of t-shirts (not a lot, just have about 50 so far) and stickers. Think they turned out nice. Hope official day three went off without a hitch. Max and I are hitting the road in a couple of hours. Hopefully won’t kill him before we get there, though some stretches were hiding a body would be pretty easy. - S’

‘S – don’t kill him. He might end up being useful at some point. Surely he has some hidden talent. Haven’t driven Tom crazy yet, though I think Nick might if he doesn’t calm down a little. Tom might be slipping something in Nick’s drinks to make him sleep so we can drive through the night. See you soon – Wm’

Sean texts Tom with their tentative arrival time as well as the same pictures he sent William, then he sits on his couch and gives his laptop a stupid grin before opening up reply window.

‘W – suppose if Tom can keep from killing Nick I can let Max live. How are you feeling? You say things are going well, but curious how you’re doing and handling it all. What kind of reaction are you getting? We’re going to stay overnight once we’re there, so hopefully can take you to lunch or at least talk while I’m there. - S’

He digs the remote from between the cushions and turns on the DVD player, pretending that he’s going to watch a movie instead of just wait for William’s reply. He knows William will start his warm-up soon and, for the first time in a long time, Sean thinks about performing again. He knows William reminds him of himself, but even so he hasn’t wanted to sing in ages. Hasn’t even thought about it. He doesn’t even want it, really. He just wonders until the movie starts and he pushes it all out of his mind.

Or pretends to, given that he’s looking at the laptop every couple of minutes. It isn’t until a couple hours pass and he knows William’s going to be on stage that he closes it. He goes to the kitchen and gets a beer and tries to focus on the movie, though he has to admit defeat and restart it at the beginning. He gets halfway through before he gives up entirely and snaps it off. He gets another beer and stares at the laptop as if that will make the damn email notification chime. 

“Fuck.” He guzzles down the second beer and slams the bottle on the table, grabbing the laptop and going into his bedroom. If nothing else he can watch the porn he has downloaded and do something constructive like get himself off. He strips down and stretches out on the bed, opening the laptop and searching for the file, trying to remember what stupid name he gave it. He clicks it open just as his email goes off. He shuts the file down and opens his email, exhaling in relief at William’s name in the address bar. 

‘S – not sure how to describe how it feels. Good. Amazing. But scary too. People ask me questions about myself and about the songs and I know that’s good, but it’s also the first time I’ve had a lot of people picking at my private life. Tom’s been good to talk to but he doesn’t say much back. This is all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m scared I won’t like it or be good at it. - Wm’

Sean reads through it a couple of times and he erases the start of his reply at least twice as many before he actually finds the words he’s trying for. Even when he’s done he’s not sure he’s said any of it right.

‘W – I used to have a band. I was the front man. It was petrifying every night, even with a whole band behind me. Standing up there and pouring your heart out every night and not knowing if it’s going to get handed back to you torn and mutilated or all patched up takes a stupid kind of courage. Even when the songs aren’t about you, as personal as yours they still have a piece of you, and when you put that out there it’s nerve-wracking in those few moments before the applause or the boos. You’ve got an amazing voice, and you’re going to go far. It’s not going to be easy all the time, but you’ll get there. I’ll do everything I can to help you. - S’

He leaves the laptop open, but leans back against his pillows. He thinks about emailing Tom, but it feels like it’d be a kind of betrayal. Telling someone what you’re afraid of isn’t easy, and Sean thinks that if he tells Tom, he’s liable to lose William’s trust. 

‘S – thanks. I appreciate that. It helps to know I’m not the only one. I mean, I do know it, but it’s nice to hear. Everyone else on the tour seems so comfortable with it all. I probably look like a deer in headlights when these girls come up to me and ask me questions and give me phone numbers and ask me to sign their breasts. I thought that was a made up thing or something that only happened to famous people. I’ve seen more naked breasts so far on this tour than the rest of my entire life. And according to my mom, I was breastfed. - Wm’

Sean almost chokes on his laugh. He’s going to have to admit, at some point, that he’s not just interested in having sex with William. That he hasn’t been for a long time. Apparently Danielle and Tom and Max have a reason to worry, because from what Sean’s realizing, he’s actually falling for this kid, and likely to do or say something stupid and put William in a position where he might think he can’t say no.

‘W – I now have a very inappropriate image of you breastfeeding at your current age. I’m sure any of the young ladies you’ve acquired as fans would be happy to indulge you should that be your thing. As for the rest of it, well, a lot of people can sense that you’re going to be something, and they want to get in on the ground floor. Pretty sure you could have sex multiple times each night with a variety of partners if you want. - S’

He sends it before he can think about it. He knows they’re they right words to say, but that doesn’t make saying them taste like anything but ashes in his mouth. He’s pretty sure reverse psychology doesn’t work where sex is involved. He’s actually surprised when his email chimes and it’s William.

‘S – is that what you want? - Wm’

Sean sucks a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. He’s never quite sure where things stand with William, though he knows that’s largely his own fault. He’s also not sure how he should answer the question. His answer is no, but he also knows he has no right to say that, because he doesn’t have any alternative to offer him. But he’s also aware that there’s absolutely no way he can say yes. Not just because it’s a lie, but because it’s going to hurt someone. Maybe William’s feelings, but most definitely his own. He’s already denying himself everything else.

‘W – what I want isn’t relevant. Tour is about what you want. You get to be the adult and make the decisions. If that includes sleeping with the girls or guys that you meet, then just be aware of what the consequences are. Word travels fast in the music world. People are discreet for the most part, but not always. - S’

The reply comes back quickly, and Sean smiles as he reads it.

‘S – you are so full of shit. I’ll see you tomorrow night. - W’

**

Max is in charge of the music on the way to Ohio, because he says so, and Sean’s not willing to get smacked if he argues with him. Besides, Max is good with music – if a bit heavy on the Nirvana – so it makes the miles go by quickly. They stop for lunch and more Diet Coke and bathroom breaks and an argument about Sean’s phone’s GPS and where the fucking venue is only to find out it’s on the other side of the block they’re on. Max heads inside while Sean pulls into the alley so they can offload the merch. William comes out with Max, but Tom’s already outside, smoking a cigarette. 

Sean gets out of the car and looks at Tom pointedly. “I thought you didn’t smoke around Danielle.”

“Do you see Danielle?”

“I thought she was with you.”

“She is. But if I drink enough she won’t notice the taste, and I can pass the smell off as secondhand. Mom.”

“Ha. Look who’s talking.” He opens the trunk and watches William’s face as he looks down at what Sean estimates is an actual shitload of stuff. Definitely a trunk load. “Here you go, rock star.”

“I’m not a rock star. Even if I were famous, I wouldn’t be a rock star.” He shakes his head, his eyes wide. “This is a lot.”

“I’m anticipating a high return on my investment. Help me carry it inside.”

“I think we can put at least half of it in the van.” William grabs a box of CDs with a grunt. “How many are in here?”

“A hundred. A thousand all told. Plus t-shirts and stickers. I brought you more Sharpies too.”

“A thousand?” William’s eyes are, if possible, even wider. “You want me to sell a thousand CDs?”

“It’s a two-month tour. Yeah. I expect you to sell out of a thousand CDs so we have to make another run.” Sean takes a box as well. “You’re right. We can put over half of these in the van.”

“We can probably put all of them in the van. I’ve already got 75 out there. The t-shirts and stickers I can put out. I don’t have a lot of table room, but I can display a few stickers and hang the t-shirt.”

“You should have at least half a table. Does Tom know you don’t have room? Goddamn it.”

“It’s fine, Sean.”

“No, it’s not.” He sets the box on the ground and unlocks the van before he turns to William. “We have a deal in our contract. You get merch room. That means at least half a table you share with another one of the openers. You’ve got just as much right to be there and sell your shit as they do. I’ll talk to their management and get it straightened out.”

“I don’t want to cause problems.”

“You won’t. I will. That’s my job.” He takes the box from William’s arms and sets it in the back of the van, shoving it to the side. “You get every chance. I’m not letting anyone take a single one away from you.”

The corner of William’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sean shakes his head and reaches out, tracing the curve of his mouth. 

 

William closes his eyes and leans into Sean’s touch. Sean curves the rest of his hand along William’s jaw and moves in closer. “I don’t think we’re supposed to do this.”

Sean shakes his head. “You’re right. We’re not.”

“I meant what I said last night. You really are full of shit.” He looks at Sean and turns his head, placing a small kiss on Sean’s palm. “Tell me the truth.”

“No breastfeeding.”

“Sean.” William gives him a dirty look and bites his thumb. Sean groans low and forces himself to take a deep breath so he doesn’t throw William in the van and bite him back. 

“I don’t have the right to tell you what to do because I’m the one telling you I can’t do this. But...” Sean frees his thumb from between William’s teeth and traces it over his cheekbone. “If you’re asking, then no. I don’t want you to have sex with all the boys and girls throwing themselves at your feet. I don’t want you to kiss anyone else. I don’t want you signing teenage girls’ body parts. I just...I want you to...wait.”

“Wait.” William nods like he’s considering it, but he doesn’t say anything else, and so Sean keeps going to fill the silence.

“Yeah. Wait six months. For me. For them to not have a say in any of this. For me not to have to listen to them bitch.”

“I’ll still be under contract to you.”

Sean swallows. “Yeah. You will.”

William nods and closes his eyes again, still leaning into Sean’s touch. “Are you ever going to ask me what I want?” He says it softly, but Sean can hear something in it, something sad. “All of you seem to assume that because you’re older that you get to make my choices for me, or make all the choices that affect me. Like what you all want is a hell of a lot more important than anything I could want.”

Sean glances through the van window and sees Tom heading their way. He shakes his head and mouths the word ‘please’. Tom doesn’t look happy, but he does stop. “What do you want?”

“I want this. This career. You’ve given me a start, and I can’t really repay that.” He looks at Sean then. “And I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Oh.” Sean drops his hand and takes a step back. “Of course.”

“Not...” William takes a deep breath and his voice drops down from the sharp tone it had taken on. “Not ‘of course’. Don’t assume that the first thing I say is the only thing I’m going to say. I’m allowed to have complexities and layers and thoughts just like all of you that are of legal age, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Sean holds up both hands. “I’m sorry. Finish what you have to say.”

“I don’t want to fuck that up. And I’m pretty sure that somewhere down the line, if we keep acting like there’s not this thing between us, it’s going to get fucked up. So maybe acknowledging this thing between us and...dealing with it will keep that from happening.”

“So admitting we want to fuck...”

“Is that what you want to do, Sean?” William tilts his head a little, but there’s nothing questioning in his gaze. “I need to know. Is this about fucking?”

Sean shakes his head. “No. No. It’s not. Not for me. I don’t know why it’s not, and I don’t know how it’s not, and I don’t know anything, apparently, except that I don’t want to just be fucking you.”

“Okay then.” William smiles at him, a real smile that makes Sean’s head spin. “Then I’ll wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Sean raises his voice. “Go the fuck away, Tom. I’m going to kiss him now.”

“You know I’m going to have to report you for this.”

Sean smiles and cups William’s jaw, leaning in and breathing against his mouth. “Go ahead. It’s worth it.”


End file.
